peteashtondotcom

I’ve had a problem with my email from the @bugpowder.com address today so emails sent haven’t come through - send them again if they’re important.

I’ve taken this opportunity to change my main email address to pete at peteashton.com and I won’t be printing it in full on this site anywhere to try and keep the spam to a minimum. Once it’s back up, pete@bp will still work for a few months before I turn it off. So change your address books.

The rest of the weekend was a mixture of success, fun and failure.

After the demo (see previous post) I dashed up to Camden to meet Graham. We were supposed to meet at the Elephant’s Head pub at 3.00. I turned up at 3.38 and he had given up and gone home. Phoned him and he came back to the pub and we went shopping for shirts. I’ve recenty had the desire to expand my wardrobe beyond t-shirts and combat trousers and to experiment with colours a bit. Graham, being a rockabilly punker kinda guy who lives in Camden seemed the perfect person to help me buy clothes that weren’t too straight but weren’t all black. We succeeded in getting me three shirts: one bright red, one light blue and one blue with clear stripes so anything underneath will show through. It’s a bit hard to describe but it’s neat. Added to the two shirts (purple and green) I got last week I now have colours in my wardrobe! Eek!

Whilst shopping I bumped into Kath cycling through Camden and we arranged to meet up later. Which we did. On sitting in a pub she got a text from her flatmate about a party in Clapham which we decided it would be a laugh to go to since we both hadn’t gatecrashed a party in years. I tubed it back to Waterloo while Kath cycled and was hit in the face with an Orange by some kid at Euston. Not fun. After eating at my flat we went off to Clapham for this party. The three story house was covered with a huge advertising banner for the new Nigella TV series with her eating a watermellon. Inside the ground floor rooms were copiously decorated in a fruit theme as were the hosts. We met up with Aaron, Kath’s housemate who it turned out knew no-one at the party either, and started chatting and drinking. There were DJ decks in the front room and eventually someone arrived who knew how to use them and we danced until 5.00am. On getting back to my flat we made a fried breakfast and crashed out at about 6.30am. Kath had to be at work that afternoon so she left at midday but I didn’t make it out of bed until 10.00pm. All that dancing and a wee hangover really took it out of me. Which means I’m awake now.

So, a really good, productive Saturday involving a demonstration, some shopping, meeting a friend and going to a party renders my Sunday dead and my sleep patterns ruined. Is it possible to enjoy life and not fuck it up? Where is the balance? Gah…

Saturday was the anti-war demo in London. Ostensibly a demonstration against the hawkish threat of a second gulf war against Iraq and a chance for the public to show their non-acceptance of the government’s dossier on the need to attack it was, as these things often are, taken on by a mass of other causes and opinions. Most notable was the Palestinian cause with many Muslim groups present, plus the usual Socialist Worker types and some very old looking socialists, veterans of the 60’s one suspects.

I went along for an hour - I had a prior engagement at 3.00pm - to add my number. Why? Other than the fact that I live 10 minutes away from the start of the demo there are a few reasons.

• I’ve read the dossier and I’m unconvinced by it as a reason to go in and bomb a foreign power.
• I’ve become increasingly uncomfortable with the messages eminating from the Bush pro-war camp, specifically from Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney. And I’m worried by the way the UK seems to be following blindly into this situation for the sake of international diplomacy.
• The sense that this is inevitable regardless of what facts emerge worries me. As does the abandonment of elements of democracy by two supposed leaders of the democratic world.
• Yes, Saddam is an evil man and one of the worst dictators around and the world would be a better place without him in power but:
  • Didn’t the US put him in power and arm him during the Iran-Iraq war? After all, he’s better than those damn fundamentalists, until he gets too big for his boots.

  • The notion of a regime change is nice but if you get rid of Saddam, what do you replace him with? The Kurds would be unacceptable to Turkey, a NATO power, while the Marsh Arabs are aligned with the dreaded fundamentalists of Iran, which is presumably not an option. That leaves the remaining Arabic population who (and I should say I’m not 100% sure about this) are Shah Muslims and quite different to the Shiite Muslims of Iran, Saudi Arabia, etc. They are quite likely to carry on where Saddam left off, especially with all that oil there. Even if I’m completely wrong about this, fact remains that getting a regime change is not as simple as it might appear.
  • I can’t see a link between Saddam and international terrorism other than the fact that he likes the idea of it. Al-Qaeda have more links with the Saudis than the Iraqis. But then we like the Saudi rulers.
• Blood for Oil is never nice. Be honest about it, please. We’re planning on invading Iraq because he has a lot of oil and we want it.
• There’s quite a lack of debate going on here and going on a march and being counted strikes me as something worth doing. So I did it.

Blah, blah, etc, etc. Whatever my reasons I attended because I wanted to make some kind of small difference. Recycling one newspaper isn’t much in the whole scale of things but it’s worth doing. One person on a march isn’t much but it’s worth doing.

Here’s the photos I took on the march.

New in Grids: Grid 016

When I was a student, some very close female friends shared a house together and had the entire text of Valerie Solanas’ SCUM Manifesto covering one wall of their living room (which I had photocopied for them), interspersed with pages from a sex-toy catalogue they’d nicked from the only guy in the house. So, in the spirit of Ceri, Kath and Katrina, it’s with great pleasure that I present to you The Valerie Solanas School of Art Criticism. Made me smile, laugh and remember those good days… Sigh!

Inspired by yet another kooky chick lit title spied in WH SMiths last week (Pink background, kooky handdrawn illustraton of a multi-armed brown lady holding in her arms 1) A mobile Phone 2) chappati 2)whatever else lame artifact of pointless fucking existence the gendertraitor deemed was amusing, and with the tagline of “can a traditional asian girl keep in line with her families wishes and marry the white man of her dreams? Oh thats new a cross cultureal confusion 2nd gen book about growing up in Dudley and wanting to become a fucking meedical receptionist instead of a housewife FUCKOFF FUCKOFFFUCKOFFFUCKOFFFUCKOFFFUCKOFFFUCKOFF), I SHALL BECOME A CHICK-LIT AUTHOR
My witty book shall deal with the cross-scultural confusion and jokey McBeal laffs when a legal secretary in Truro decides to become a Sufi mystic, whilst stilllooking for the man of her dreams in a formica coffee bar.

I shall call it DOGFUCKER.

Just re-done the Grids page to show all 15 (so far) grids in miniature all at once. That’s 255 photos on one page. It looks kinda neat but it takes a couple of minutes to load. There’s still text links if you can’t wait. Hope you like!

A few months ago I came across this rather groovy tannoy announcement microphone and took it home with the intention of maybe using it for something at some point. And I wonder why, despite my efforts to downsize the crap I own it never seems to reduce…

Anyway, I was thinking last night that it would be nice to be able to speak ideas straight into the computer rather than type them out, possibly as a way to tell some stories or even do interviews with people and such, and since I had a good mike all I’d need was some voice recognition software. Other than stumbling up Tottenham Court Road, which is not possible today, can anyone recommend a decent voice recog system for the Mac? Not OS X though. I’ve googled and while they do exist they either cost a lot of money or have crap sites I can’t order from. Ideally a little $20 app I can download, for free would be perfect.

Just realised I haven’t washed since Wednesday morning. Nor have I changed this t-shirt. I smell like someone from the 17th century. Better go have a bath before the flatmates get home…

Still off ill. Chum Mike says: “Current illness sounds like a ‘Blighty Job’ as they used to say in Battle Action Force” and I’m struggling to understand what he means by that, but I assume it’s in my favour.

Feeling better but still having trouble typing - keep missing out letters and getting dizzy. Work sounded pretty hectic when I phoned in this morning. I know one other person was off sick this week and we’re slighty down on staff right now, so I’m feeling a little guilty for sitting around in my pants, but must face facts. I’m not well enough to work. At least it’s the weekend. I can feel the sense of wellness slowly creeping back into my bones. By Monday I should be fit as a violin.

And Happy Birthday to bro-in-law Jeff! With any luck his present will be that job he’s going for.

My good friend Gary has just started a stripblog (that’s a term I just made up for a weblog for comic strips - think photoblog - use it well). So, Go Stupidmonsters!!

Gah, ill again.

More accurately, properly ill for the first time.

It’s all my fault of course and I’m not grumbling. See, I had my month of hell when I drank too much and generally felt down and didn’t eat and such, and surprise surprise, immediately after shaving my head I caught a cold. That week, which was a pretty good week, was my birthday and, even though I had a wee cold, I got utterly bladdered and smoked far too many cheap fags. Which, once the hangover had cleared, revealed itself to have created a chesty cough which has still not gone away 8 days after it’s emergence.

On Wednesday my body had had enough and marched me down to Boots to get some cough medicine (the thing about being a smoker is you don’t think much of a cough - it goes with the territory). The rest of the day at work I felt shittier and shittier and I warned the boss that I might not make it in Thursday.

That night there was a comics talk at the ICA which I had to go to (had to in that I really wanted to) but cos of the tube strike I had to walk from the City to Traf Square . Half way there my brain started shrinking and rattling around my head and the bones in my feet vibrated with every step. Not so good.

I made it through the talk okay - it was good though areas could have been improved, such as keeping the fanboys out. More about this another time. Afterwards the usual bar thing happened as there were a lot of my friends there, but I had to cry off after a glass of orange and went home to watch Repo Man, one of the best punk movies ever IMHO, then crashed for 24 hours.

Some of this afternoon was spent listening to Alan Moore being interviewed in 1990. His voice is very soothing - he should read bedtime stories or something - even when he’s talking about the Whitechapel Murders.

Tonight I missed out on Alister’s birthday drinks, a weird movie at the Horse Hospital and some other random drinks Mikey Woods phoned about at 9.30. Ah well. Probably for the best I was ill in bed.

Of course, the only problem with spending the day dozing in bed with a bad head (other than trying to figure out if the conversations you had with your friends really happened of if you dreamed them) is I’m now awake. Kinda.

I think I’m going to install Movable Type on this server and see what happens. Don’t worry - it’ll be away from this blog. I’m not that stupid.

Another example of how blogging adds a twist to life. (from MeFi)

This 15 year old kid runs a weblog. Sometimes he updates it from the school computers. The school find out and decide he’s breaking the rules, even though the rules are not up to date enough to cover blogging. He, a good student, gets expelled. So what does he do? He writes about it on his weblog. He gets loads of feedback and gets linked to by various censorship and liberty sites and so forth. The end result is he goes from crying in the principles office to thinking, hang on a second, I might be able to fight this.

Nice.

Just a couple of site housekeeping things tonight. I’ve made a base for the photos I’m starting to take with the new APS film camera (what I got free from a publisher for ordering some books - sometimes it’s just too easy this lark…) which will fill up over time with any luck. Also, there’s now a permanent link to the Texas Palm Blog down the side there and I’ve put the first piece of CCS ever on this site up above these words, though you’ll only see it if you’ve got the Arial Black font on your ‘puter. More CCS to follow - I like the feel of it.

This week’s Monday question is a slightly long one.

You’re in a social situation where someone is exhibiting extreme negativity. It could be a pub with some people you don’t know that well, on a train journey, at a dinner party, whatever, but there’s this person who’s giving it all Daily Mail, moaning about the state of the world, turning every conversation into a negative dead end and generally bringing you down. You want to be happy and they ain’t helping, but you’re stuck with them for the period. How do you deal with them?

Just a quick post cos it’s late.

Had a lovely birthday on Thursday - thanks for everyone who came out. It was much appreciated. At one stage I came back from the loo to see a couple of tables full of people and I thought, those are my mates, and went all gooey inside. I was rather drunk by that stage but I stand by it.

I then proceeded to get even drunker, drinking pretty steadily from 5.30pm to 2.00am. Memories are a bit hazy but I know I had a damn good time. The photos should be ready later in the week which might prompt some memories. Once their through I’ll do the report.

Friday I made it to work just about on time - it took a bit longer to do the walk in - and while I had the worst hangover in a very long while the day passed well. It’s nice working with a bad head because you have to slow down. Anyway, 6.30 came, I wandered home and got the train to Winchester to visit the mother.

Saturday, and me and my mum go shopping for clothes. What a perfect way to start your fourth decade! She’d asked me what I wanted and, since I’m trying to downsize a bit, plus I’m getting rather tired of my rapidly ageing T-shirt collection, a new wardrobe seemed like not a bad idea, especially as I have a mental block when it comes to spending real money on clothes. So I got some new shoes, underwear, jeans, a couple of shirts and some hankies, which should last me ’til the next birthday.

Then, in the afternoon tea with a smattering of the family, being sister and brother-in-law, cousin Karen, cousin-in-law John and, the star attractions, second-cousins Ben and Ryan, being aged 6 and 4 respectively. I was sitting on the step when they came in and, because I’ve only met them once a couple of years ago, I was somewhat concerned about how they might deal with me, or me with them. Ben came over with an envelope and said it was for me. Inside it was a framed picture he’d painted as my present:

I was completely bowled over and grinned from ear to ear. This was the best present I’d ever had! It’s now hanging over my desk bringing a little brightness into my otherwise dull room. Thank you Ben!

My friends Dave and Anita, who are pretty much the only chums who still live in that area that I’ve stayed in touch with over the last decade, came over for the food and the evening carried on it’s relaxed way. Nice.

Sunday, Dave picked me up and I went to theirs for lunch and to meet their cat, Floopy. Martin and Fiona, biker chums I hadn’t seen since about 1996, turned up. It was good. And then back on the train to London.

Mental state is good. I’ve still got a cold, not helped by the excessive booze and fags on Thursday, which has now turned into an elephantine chesty cough the likes of which I haven’t had for years, so I’m feeling rough, but I’m happier than I’ve been for weeks and I feel like I’ve passed some kind of point.

I had a few good chats with a few good friends and my mum over the birthday period and it’s helped me settle a few ideas that have been rushing around. Tomorrow I’m off to the doctors to see the nurse (mental note: don’t forget the urine) and then later in the week to see an actual doctor and start a plan of recovery.

New in Grids: Grid 015.

Exactly 2 months ago, on July 19th, Tom of Plastic Bag turned 30 years old. When he did this he set up The Thirtieth Birthday Project and opened it up to everyone. Since the majority (though not by any stretch all) of my friends have either turned 30 in the last few years or are about to soonish, I figured I’d do the same. So, click on the comments link below and angst away.

Personally I’m cool with the actual 30 thing and have been since turning 27 when I realised it was coming. It’s more a nice milestone and a reminder of where I’m at rather than a time to panic and regret, but I know some people have a hard time with this. After all, when you’re a kid your parents are in their late 30s on the whole. I am now older than my folks were when they’d had two kids. Which is odd. So, let it all out.

Birthday in a hour. Sense of well-being: not so bad. See y’all who can make it in the pub in 19+ hours. Judging by the response so far, it should be a blast.

Hello Monday people. My stats tend to spike on Monday’s so I know you’re all there.

The other day I was standing over the Thames thinking about swimming in it. Not actually thinking about whether or not I should. I might be somewhat depressed but I’m not that bad. But just swimming in the river. Perhaps it was to do with being constricted to pavements and the like, the idea of just swimming around like a fish struck me as an interesting one. It was late so forgive me.

So, this week’s Monday question is: When was the last time you went swimming in a river or the sea? I’ll restrict it to British waters cos holidays are too easy. And there can’t be a beach involved. And were you nekkid?

In other news, today I shaved my head. With a razor. I’ve been using clippers for the last eight years but I never actually bic-ed it, as it were. It’s an interesting experience. My scalp is now as smooth as a baby’s bum - no stubble at all. I think I might keep this up - every weekend, shave my head. I’m also cultivating a tiny beard under my lower lip but purely because I quite liked tugging on it. The moment a girl tells me it looks stupid it’ll come off.

Saw Helen tonight, which was great. She’s a good a mate as any really. She’s having a great time working in Amsterdam and said I’d like it there, which is probably true. So that’s another option to consider - use Helen as a contact and emigrate to the continent.

So far the options are:

• Work on a cruise ship.
• Live and work on a farm, possibly an organic farm community thing.
• Go live in Amsterdam and get a job there (there are immigration issues unless I have a job but it’s an idea).
• Get some long term therapy and learn to appreciate what I’ve got and keep in under control.

The last option is still there. As I’ve said before, my life is, on paper, pretty good and better than most. I just have a mental block that stops me living it. An inward journey might be as effective and interesting as an outward journey.

Whatever, something needs to change.

Mental update.

Progress, of a sort…

I didn’t go out at all last week. On Thursday I so wanted to go for a drink and tried phoning through my mates but after four tries the batteries on my phone died so I went home, watched a film (can’t remember what it was) and went to bed because I really didn’t want to stay awake. Bad mood. Not sure if it was withdrawal from the booze or just a bad mood. Whatever, I was determined to go out Friday. Needed the company of friends and the light relief of dumb conversations.

After work on Friday work chums and I went to the usual place in the market where the drinks are half price, but it wasn’t the most stimulating of evenings. Halfway through I tried phoning a number of friends but they were all in different counties or had plans I wasn’t keen on (the goth club Slimelight anyone? Thought not.) Ended up going to Kate’s flat where she had some mutual friends over. It was a nice enough evening but I felt I was moaning a little too much.

On the way home I walked over the Millennium Bridge which is now one of my favourite places in London, especially after midnight. Because it runs from the City to Tate Modern there’s very little pedestrian traffic at that time of night and, being a footbridge, there’s no vehicles rumbling past you, so it’s perfect for standing over the river contemplating life and London. My favourite spot is right in the middle. It’s not the middle of bridge but you can tell when you’re there because there are two yellow lights in the middle of Blackfriars Bridge. Anyway, it’s a good spot.

Slept through Saturday though I intended to do a couple of things, and was stirred from my lair by Heather phoning about Tim’s birthday drinks which I was intended to go along to. She came over and we got there about 9.00pm-ish. Tim had been in the pub since four so was well gone and we wound up helping Nicky, his girlfriend and friend of mine through the biz, carry him home. Literally. He couldn’t walk. At one stage he started kicking me so I threatened to have him on the floor. He said I couldn’t do it so I just let go and he fell on his arse. After that he was rather more compliant. After putting Tim to bed we sat up until 5.00am chatting and drinking. It was the kind of night I just love. I wasn’t too drunk but I was drunk enough and today I feel good for the first time in quite a while. And to top it all, because I slept on Tim’s floor I actually got up at 11.00am today and haven’t crashed yet!

Tonight I’m off for a meal with Helen who’s over from Amsterdam for the weekend then we might go a check out the fireworks on the River, which Anna’s just phoned me about.

Good tip for the week. Tim and his chums had discovered this radio station, Resonance 104.4 FM. It only broadcasts in the London area but they have a web stream. It’s an Art radio station replicating an art gallery / happening on the air. During the day it’s programme based and resembles Radio 3’s Mixing It, only at a reasonable time of day and for hours on end, and then at night it’s a mix of weird noises. Sometimes you get random words, sometimes the sound of a car revving for 20 minutes, sometimes just a strange collage of found sounds. It’s most definitely MY mind of radio!

Nicky mentioned acupuncture which apparently has helped her a lot over the last year. While it’s somewhat on the fringes or rationality, it might help unblock my energies, or whatever it is, which I think can’t be a bad thing. Will investigate.

I’m not in the mood to post because I have a cold, which is really annoying. Think I’m run down rather than infected so nothing to worry about.

Things are okay though. It was my mum’s birthday today - she’s currently phoning me at 6.45 to make sure I get up and I answered the phone with a “happy birthday”, which was quite a miracle. Normally I forget her birthday until a week or so later, partly because I’m crap at that kind of thing and partly because it’s so close to mine. Added to this that my brain is on another planet when I wake up and it’s getting messianic. Think I might have made her morning with that one.

Speaking of waking up, yesterday I fell asleep on getting home and flatmate Rob woke me up to check I was okay. My brain fumbled around and I suddenly panicked. “What time is it?” I yelped. “Seven” he replied. Thank God, I thought, I’m not late for work. Then I thought about it. “AM or PM?” Every time I wake up these days I panic, except for when I really need to.

Other things in brief: Had a meal with Kate the ex tonight which went okay though my cold didn’t help. Have been getting bored at work - the prospect of actually leaving at some point soon hasn’t helped and I now definitely feel I’ve reached the ceiling of my bookselling career, especially as other staff are rapidly catching me up on the experience scale, which is no bad thing as I’m bored with the jobs they’re learning about. Got a wicker blind to replace the godawful curtains in this room and discovered it’s 5cm too wide, so I’ll have to snip it down bit by bit. Killed a plant. Not good that. Kate gave me a Yoshitomo Nara ashtray with the legend “Too Young To Die on it. It’s 10 inches wide and kicks ass. More Yoshitomo Nara here!

Still got some emails outstanding. Will reply soon. Honest!

Once again it is proven to me that a friend of mine is so completely wasted in his place of employment. Welcome to Mike’s Place.

Thanks for all the emails. Unfortunately, in a effort to make it to work today on time (which I did!) I stayed up all night so I’m too tired to write decent replies. Will do though. Promise. That said, I’ve only been up since 6.00pm Sunday so it’s not that bad. Just got to stay awake for another couple of hours then I can crash for the night. Dumb-assed action video methinks.

In order to stay awake last night without tiring myself out I watched two films for the first time. Charlie’s Angels was ridiculous but enjoyable. Funny Face was stunning. God I love those technicolour Fred Astair musicals!

Interestingly, I watched The Big Sleep for the first time over the weekend and it made me sad because I SO wanted to be as sorted as Bogart and I can see every girl I’ve ever really fancied in Bacall. Great film, even though I can never quite follow a Phil Marlow movie completely.

Question: did anyone else think Humphry Bogart and Dirk Bogard were related for a while? Or was it just me?

warning: long 1000 word post

Yet another interesting week, leaving me wishing for less interesting weeks. Please.

Okay, things have come to a pass and something must be done. But first a little background on the last seven days.

While on my holiday in the Cotswalds I did a lot of thinking, and concluded that I needed a little structure in my life. And also that I needed to slow down on the drinking to give my anti-dees a chance of doing the job they’re supposed to do. Realising that there’s a distinct possibility I’ve become ever so slightly addicted to alcohol, I decided to be realistic. so I laid down some basic rules. When drinking on the night before work I am allowed a maximum of three pints of beer. I am allowed to get properly drunk once a week but only on a Friday or Saturday. I also have to go home first, eat some food, and then go out.

Monday, Brett calls and tells about a lig that night from 6.00-8.00pm. I say I might come along but I want to go shopping first. Plus I have to pick up my prescription. The plan is, after finishing work at 4.30 I’ll get there when there’s only an hour of free booze left and have a light evening. In the end I spend a good hour and a half on the busses and decide I might as well go straight there. Okay, beer only and count the bottles. I’m greeted by trays of Champaign and constant topups. And the booze doesn’t run out until 10.00pm.

So I get drunk.

Tuesday, managed to go shopping and cook dinner. Also managed to make packed lunch for work. Result!

Wednesday. Forget to take packed lunch in to work. Am meeting friend for a talk so go to pub first. Consume about 6 pints that evening.

Thursday. There are three ligs this evening between the hours of 6.00 and 8.30. The first is at the Ritz for Dick Francis. I drink about 1.5 bottles of Champaign before we move on to the Iain Banks lig where I drink a bout three glasses of white wine. Then it transpires that the third lig, Ethan Hawks, actually starts at 8.30 so off we go to that. Failing to get in we go to the pub and have about three pints. Then we manage to make it into Ethan’s do and stay there drinking bottles of beer until 1.00am.

I should point out that I had a wonderful time. Really enjoyed myself, had some good talks with good friends, had a lot of fun and felt good.

The next day I don’t go into work. Yes, I’m hung over, but that’s not the reason. Thing is I’m lying under the bedclothes crying and hating myself for being a total and utter fuckup. This has happened a few times over the last few weeks and I’d decided once and for all to put a stop to it. My manager has been as understanding as he can be but from now on my pay gets docked whenever I’m late, and if it doesn’t improve over the this month I’m on disciplinary.

In short, I’m fucking up my job. And my life.

So, I have a chat with Vicky, who’d gotten drunk on Thursday and mislaid her signed books, which I’d found and taken home. She’s off to India for 6 months to get away from her life here. I start thinking that’s a damn good idea.

Then, cos I’m feeling shite, I phone my mum. Being a) and mother and b) a yoga teacher she’s normally pretty good for this sort of thing. She says she sees me working on an organic farm type community or something. Of course, she would, but it’s not a bad idea.

Way I see it, I can’t go on like this. My circumstances, while eminently enjoyable, are not helping my state of mind. I’m trapped in a cycle and I can’t break out of it.

On the other hand, I’m single, work in retail and live in a flat with a 6 month assured tenancy. Other than a load of books and a computer I don’t have anything holding me here. I’ve gradually been offloading my comics and web commitments onto the community without them suffering. There is nothing really stopping me getting the hell out of this situation.

Except I’m too scared to follow Vicky’s example and jump on a plane to the other side of the world.

Then, I don’t know where it came from, but I suddenly thought of cruise ships. Simple idea really: you get a job on a ship which is sailing around the world for 4 months. You earn money but your bed and board are covered. You wind up in a strange country with a bit of cash and if you want you can stay there, or they pay your flight back, or you get another job on another ship. Did a bit of googling and came up with some interesting sites and a book. I’ve got ten years of retail experience with a smattering of management. If I can’t get a job on a ship then I’m doing something wrong. Even if it only pays £500 a month it’s the same as I’m taking home right now after rent and bills. And I get to travel and really get out of my current situation.

After discussing this with my flatmate, mother and brother-in-law (who’s just emigrated over here from the States with my sister and can offer an outsiders opinion) I’ve decided it’s a go-er.

So, I’m going to quit my bookselling job at some point and leave the country in February to work on a boat. I’ll sell off the stuff I don’t need to keep, lend the comics to someone long term, trade up the iMac for a small lap-top, and get on the road.

Still not sure if I’ll quit work sooner rather than later, but I suspect a temp job will pay better. Need to do some research into that.

I don’t think this is some pie in the sky idea. It hasn’t made me feel much better for deciding it and I know it’s going to be tough. I’m definitely NOT running away from my problems. I just need a complete change of scene, getting my out of this rut I’ve been in for the last few years and doing something radically different.

As far as the blog is concerned, Volume 2 is now the account of me making this change. Volume three will be the voyage.

Question: has anyone reading this ever worked on a cruise ship before. Do you know someone who has? I’d like to contact them.

Chum John Weeks, an American living generally in Cambodia, though often elsewhere, and cartoonist / underground activist, has two blogs: his mainly comics blog and his mainly Cambodia blog. Though I suspect there’s a crossover there.

Any more new blogs by folks I know?

Tonight I sorted out something that’s been on my mind for rather a while and which should, hopefully, prove to be very good in the long term. And, no, I’m not going to talk about it. This is just to remind me when it happened.

Why is it just when you’re about ready to turn off the computer and go to bed, you stumble across something really cool. John Peel just had Half Man Half Biscuit in session and mentioned their site, so I popped over to see it and it’s got a glossary for every song they’ve released. Which is deeply fascinating. But now I must go to bed.

An old friend who I haven’t been in touch with for 18 months or so just emailed about a gig she’s got coming up. It seems she’s now trading under the name Miss Hypnotique and she performs like this:

That’s a theremin. I knew she was messing around with it but this is certainly a development! The gig’s at 93 Feet East on Brick Lane, East London on September 18th, the day before my birthday! I think I might well be there!

Had rather a shock as I was walking into Soho on Monday. The location of the old Waterstones on Charing Cross Road, where I was assistant manager for three months while it closed down after 20 years, is now a fecking bag shop.

Okay, it’s just an end of lease job and eventually it’ll be something else, but it’s dead weird seeing the old fittings and such full of suitcases and handbags. Plus they’ve painted the outside white. Really odd.