As per the new, caring and sharing online me first visited in Inner Shit, here’s another deep insight into my psyche.
I once, in the mid 1970s, won the Glen Michael’s Cartoon Cavalcade Letter Of The Month (or was it Week?) with a conceptual piece on wallpaper that had all Spider-Man and that. The prize was a £3 book token which got me a variety of Marvel annuals and a couple of L. Sprague De Camp/Lin Carter Conan paperbacks. Fast forward to the late ’80s: a hungover, 19-year-old me catches an episode of the still-running Cavalcade and witnesses a contemporary winner of the Letter Of The Month-or-possibly-Week. The prize? You guessed it – a £3 book token.
Also, must’ve been around that time, mid-’70s, I took part in a pantomime with a travelling theatre group at my school. Aladdin, I think (the panto, not the school). It was all quick-changes with the luvvies round the back of the set and I saw a woman in her pants. There were tights as well but it was the pants that made it remarkable.
And there you have it.
Next: the time I punched a gibbon in the throat.*
There’s a fair bit of advice around for musicians using social networking and/or blogging. “The personal touch” seems to be the thing. Don’t overdo the album/gig plugging. Share some, oh I don’t know, “inner shit” or whatever. So, here goes.
I like bananas. I don’t like apples. I’ve never seen an episode of The X Factor (or Pop Stars or Pop Idol etc). To the best of my knowledge I’ve never heard so much as a note by either One Direction or Mumford and Sons. I read a lot but am not particularly well read. I am an anti-religion athiest who finds the modern trend for evangelical athiesm counterintuitive and largely insufferable. I’ve had two broken bones in my life (little toe, can’t remember which foot, though definitely one of mine, kung fu sparring 1991; knuckle bone, back of right hand, disagreement with a wall mid-90s) and an undiagnosed/untreated fractured jaw (kung fu fight 1992). I saw Def Leppard live in the 80s but it wasn’t my fault. I see every day as an opportunity for disappointment and, ironically, it is only with regard to that expectation that I unfailingly find satisfaction in life. I need a holiday.
Hopefully that should do it.