Today

Wankers

Fri, 26 Sep 2008 00:42:57 GMT

Partay

Sun, 30 Dec 2007 22:21:06 GMT

All welcome. Do Come. 1.pm to 11pm 'Doggets' 1 Blackfriars Bridge, London, NEW YEARS DAY

disturbing phenomenon

Fri, 07 Sep 2007 00:53:40 GMT

What does it mean that I appear, exactly as I looked about 4 years ago, in this video for 'Travolta (quote, unquote) by Mr. Bungle, at 02:04, then again at 1:23? I'm not kidding, It's fucking me.

I thought it clearly must be a cosmic message, so i checked up on the lyrics.

All behold the spectacle
A fleshy limbless rectangle
Sitting on a pedestal
So nasal handicapable

Sniff and remember silver ball
Contortions that he can't recall
The torso on a trampoline
The happiness melts into dream

To talk is an enunciated sneeze
To taste is some foul air to breathe

One thought it lasts a day and at that rate he'll most likely live forever!
He's a bird in flight, a hermaphrodite
And he fucks himself as he fucks the world

His twitching brain can dance within
Gyrating more like gelatin
A secret means of ecstasy
Acute and very olfactory

To see is colors crawling in the nose
To hear is stinking highs and lows

He's got an itch but nothing with which to scratch the itch - so wish it away

With his mouth sewn shut, he still shakes his butt
Cuz he's Hitler & Swayze & Trump & Travolta

Smell, Sweat, Movement.
Everyone's dancing.
Disco.
Dimple.
Fading. Darker.
A subtle fragrance.
Faint.
Everyone's dancing without him.
Where did it go?
Dark.
Odorless.
Nothing.

Growing up, and being British.

Thu, 23 Aug 2007 00:51:35 GMT

Adulthood, what they call 'Maturity' is all about the irreversable. You're not really a grown up till there's no way back. That's why batchelors over a certain age, childless women and R.E. Teachers all share a certain desperate, indeterminate over-enthusiasm, while the rest of us are consigned to the tranquility of resignation. Once you have no choice, life becomes a lot simpler, and so do you.

Wed, 18 Jul 2007 01:25:23 GMT

Thu, 12 Jul 2007 13:54:03 GMT

Sorry, friends, for my recent reticence... after a tricky few months at the end of last year we're back on track. Them witchy Alabama 3 enthusiasts will, I hope, be pleased to know that after being apperently dead in the water this time last year we've snatced some kind of victory from the jaws of defeat, and somehow managed to record the best album we've done in 10 years. Paradoxically the most lush, overproduced record we've ever done has been made on the smallest budget we've ever had (A trifling £50K). We're playing a few festivals over the next month or so, then we tour in September. Anyone wanting a squeeze for any of these gigs (or just wanting a squeeze) don't hesitate to ask. LJ users get special prority. The dates are on the new, re - tarted A3 website. I've also started a woblag, as I believe they're called, on the same electronic interwebpostspace:

http://www.alabama3.co.uk/

Please also consider the following:

http://www.headlesshorses.co.uk/

I'ts my Gothic Prog Rock Outfit, lined in ermine. You Thelamites are gonna luv it!!!!???!

A spider just crawled onto my laptop.

just one fix

Sat, 24 Mar 2007 14:30:41 GMT

Went to the Slimelight for the first time in probably ten years last nite...

It was Lovely.

just one fix

Sat, 24 Mar 2007 03:58:41 GMT

Went to the Slimelight for the first time in probably ten years tonite...

It Was Lovely.

And the winner is...

Sat, 10 Mar 2007 12:05:53 GMT

The winner of last weeks competition is thishardenedarm, who answered the question "what's the opposite of nature?".

The correct answer is, of course "you are". Well done Vince...x

Answers on a Postcard...

Fri, 02 Mar 2007 03:44:31 GMT

What's the opposite of Nature?

A chocolate watch for the winner.

side affects...

Tue, 20 Feb 2007 02:05:33 GMT

I have some friends.... at least I think they're friends, although i never actually speak to them... you could say we inhabit the same plane. Or our worlds intersect. But there is an important difference betwen their world and mine. In their world ( the world of the friends who I never actually see ), apparently you can fly and cast magic spells! You can travel through time! My friends are warriors... they fight with axes and wands. I admire them. They weave spells by means of strange dancing. They are mystical choreographers. Perhaps it sounds silly, but its alright... it's just a game: they don't really mean it... Or do they? They seem to take it so seriously... it's confusing. Do they even exist? Maybe it's just a side affect of my medication... x

Sun, 07 Jan 2007 19:08:48 GMT

In 2007, orlandox resolves to...

Tell my family about swans.
Give up girls.
Become a better faliure.
Drink four glasses of courtney every day.
Backup my cronemberg regularly.
Admit my true feelings to 3_nic.

Oh Crikey!

Fri, 15 Dec 2006 01:18:41 GMT

Along the same lines...

Another lovely piece of British Artaudian TV...

Great Gig...

this makes me happy...

Fri, 08 Dec 2006 23:45:05 GMT

Pokernacht

Fri, 08 Dec 2006 22:27:00 GMT

Those who like to inhabit The Realm of The Flush and The Flop might want to keep the evening of the 19th December free, when I will be hosting a poker table
for Maud's end of show party at the Horse Hospital. Flamboyant clothing is mandatory, especially along the lines of Wild Frontiersmen and Calamitous Jane. Stakes will be
civilized (I cant speak for the conversation or the clientele).

Men Without Names

Sun, 09 Jul 2006 23:28:23 GMT

London is burning. Cut the atmosphere with a knifie.

I've been living in london on and off for nearly 20 years... but i've never known this kind of pressure. There used to be places to hide...
or is it me?

Get off. Get off me.

x

curses

Sat, 03 Jun 2006 17:33:49 GMT

Apologies everyone for my prolonged silence... ever since the print my Father gave me of St Eustace lept off a shelf with glass smashed to smithereens on the floor, I've been dogged by misfortune. The print features St Eustace being visited by Christ in the form of a stag in the forest. Any of you brilliant amateur theologins who feel like offering a spiritual diagnosis please feel free. God knows I need advice. As far as I can work out, the implication of this rather crass omen is that i am to be boiled alive inside a giant brass pig, which, i just can't feel good about, whatever spin I put on it.

om ni padne om i god

Mon, 03 Apr 2006 01:58:57 GMT

like ramonaramone, I have also forsworn alcohol and narcotics for a month. It's Just an experiment... I'm only playing with sanity.
I get up at 8.00 am, meditate, work on the flat all day, cook, then work on music on my computer till about 3.00 am. I'm fully aware that this behaviour is a form of psychological avoidance, symptomatic of some mid - life flavoured crisis.

(which seems to share all the chatacteristics of every other nebulous climacteric i've endured since i was 12.)

That's what middle-aged men do. Thats's all theyre allowed to do. except for most of them its the other way round; they sit at computer all day and work on the flat all evening. And they drink. Not me; my mood is genrally placid, punctuated by sudden angst and swearing. I drink massive amounts of water. I look like shit. I visit a Tibetan shrine in Waterloo and stare at a golden Buddha for an hour...As i breathe deeply, It's shadow turns into a pair of enourmous breasts and It's black hairpiece into a policeman's helmet.

The band that's kept me out of work for the past ten years is collapsing... theres no money left to pay our wages. My attenuated adolescence may have worn thin. The Buddha said "the universe will provide". It certainly provided for the tiger that killed and ate him. x

God is dead (when I see him)

Sat, 18 Feb 2006 23:37:11 GMT

This morning I woke up at 10 am and thought to myself 'the last 10 years of my life have been a complete waste of time.'
I opened a phone bill for £184 pounds and an electricity bill for £132. I had a cup of black cofee, got the Independent magazine and read an article about a north Korean concentration camp. I tried to learn how to play 'I am the Walrus' on the piano, then watched sadomasochistic porography on the internet for two hours. Then i went to the Tate Modern, sat on a leather sofa and did some buddhist meditation. I looked at some Soviet Russian propoganda, then i went back to the flat and ate an egg. Later on i called my not-quite-appropriately young Irish girlfriend on the telephone and discovered she's been seeing someone else behind my back. God. She's been secretly going to Mass on sundays. I asked her what she was up to tomorrow, and it just slipped out. I'm not sure what the implications of this development are, but its disturbing. I'm not kidding. tomorrow I'm going to ask her how long she's been seeing this 'supreme being'. And she'll tell me that its not a serious thing, he's just a friend, it's not a physical relationship...

Fri, 03 Feb 2006 03:29:24 GMT

After the gig Olivier, the red-haired Austrian violinist looked me straight in the eye and said 'tell me, have you ever worked with contemporary dancers?'
I didn't know weather to smile demurely or punch his fucking lights out.
'er....no...not really...i mean... i dont think so...w...why do you ask?'
he giggled and said" well...it's just that you seem so...free"
"my girlfriend works in contemporary dance" he added with a conspiratorial smile"
he was quite a charming boy...we exchanged numbers.
x

Fri, 03 Feb 2006 01:03:06 GMT

Did a gig with Miasma... at the Birmingham Conservetoire...it was a free - form colhaboration....a bridging of the gap between classical strictures and the sponteneity of modern rock music.

please, somebody shoot me. x

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 22:27:27 GMT

Disturbingly , nearly every person who responded to my last post is some kind of practitioner of the black arts.
Thank you very much for your warm welcome. It was nice to hear from Ian, Bridie and Adie after all this time. Sophisticated
individuals such as thee might like to hear my new rock outfit at headlesshorses.com. x

Secrets and Lies

Mon, 30 Jan 2006 15:00:08 GMT

For over 10 years, on and off, I kept a private, paper, flammable diary. This is a beast of a different colour; what if you couldn't destroy your diary, and it could be read by your Mum and Dad, all your friends and enemies, and 50 billion other muppets?

A rubric for ethical living: to be able to write the true events of your day, comprehensively and clearly,without shame or fear of reprisal? But your day is also the day of your friends...and you don't live in China.

I was going to write about the dream I had this morning, but it involved my little sister, a friend of mine who also writes on livejournal and a very sharp knife... there was a lot of blood...you wouldn't want to embarass anybody.

When I was a boy I used to profess, with an undergraduate fanatacism, the importance of telling the truth to everyone, all the time, under any circumtsances. But I didn't think through the consequences; such a policy must result in cruelty and betrayal (and that was before all them murders). I was NAIVE.

< Is the will to truth necessary, possible, credible, or even interesting now? (not a rhetorical question)</div>

Now I'm a man I lie with impunity. The place is crawling with pigs. x

Sat, 28 Jan 2006 04:37:31 GMT

my fifth left molar has started bleeding like a stuck pig...there is a spasm in the skin underneath my left eyeball...i have a considered, well reasoned opinion regarding the nature of love... x