It's that view again

Box Hill Viewpoint

A quick check of my Strava suggests I've been up Box Hill around 300 times, which is crazy. But, if it's generally accepted to be a rite of passage for cyclists, then that rings even more true, for those of us who live in Surrey. I can be at the base of the hill in around 25 minutes, so it's effectively my local climb. 

And that, up there, is the view that greets you, when you reach the summit. I'm fascinated by the view - partly because it's beautiful, but also because it changes, all the time. There are times when that sky is a deep blue, and seems to go on forever. Times when threatening clouds roil over the weald beyond. Times when the fog over Pixham inverts, gently blanketing the woods on the horizon. It's an extraordinary sight, no matter what time of the year you look out from the viewpoint. 

TOday, I was on my way back from Rusper, hurtling down the mad mile, to Tanhouse Farm shop, for my usual double espresso and slice of cake. I love how cycling seeks to emphasise those simple moments of pleasure, that make everything fall into place. 

 

Gosh - a day away from the bike!

 I really wanted to keep on going - but, at the same time, you have to listen to your body, when it tells you "no". That's just one of the rules. I don't make them, I just follow them. And, it doesn't necessarily have to be your body screaming that it's in pain - a gentle whisper of tiredness is quite enough.

So, today has been quiet so far. Lots of admin (this always makes me feel better) and a quick bite to eat in Epsom, for lunch. Weather has turned, a bit, too. How annoying! I was hoping to keep pushing away at the bike rides, as spring finally took hold. Instead, it feels like we're taking a step backwards.

I've also done some minor mechanical things today - chief among those was the replacement of the pedal bodies for the Assioma Duo's. They were five years old, and I must have put at least 40,000km on them, so it's hardly surprising that they'd reached the end of their lifespan. A welcome side effect of new pedal bodies is just how quiet the bike is, now. The old pedals were contributing so much noise, so much rattling. The bike now feels taut, sounds silent.

Back on the decks

 It was a BFLF in Farnham, today - I'm trying to nail it down, but I'm sure it's the fourth time we've done it, in that particular location. It's so good to get back on the decks with Dylan. It's been a few weeks since we've seen each other, and it's always such a pleasure. Laughter, until we're nearly crying. I think we've now been a proper DJ team for around a decade, which seems like a ludicrously long time - but it's been wonderful. I do think it's been an inspiring process for both of us as well

. We've learned a lot - but we've also learned from each other. There's no one I'd rather play out with, let me put it that way. I trust Dylan, implicitly, when it comes to DJing. 

Lots of traffic on the roads today, the M25 is closed, at the junction with the A3, for another bridge demolition. those are the two roads we would have otherwise used, so as you can imagine, it wasn't the easiest journey. Overall though, helped by it being a glorious sunny day. I did feel a small pang of sadness that I wasn't out on my bike. maybe tomorrow? I think I had better - it's looking like it'll be the last tolerably warm day for around a week: after Monday, the cooler temperatures will return. 

My mind is still a little distracted, It has been for the last few days. I'm not sure why: I need to let it rest, a little. 

finally, I appear to be fit again.

 Well, back to a decent level of fitness, anyway. Over the last 18 months, I've got slightly rotund, I've definitely let my fitness slide, and I've not been able to ride as much as I'd like. 

I think that's at the heart of it, really. I've just had a couple of years packed with work, gigs, touring, and logistics. It's been impossible to string together a regular pattern of training. But, over the past three weeks, I've been on it, and (crucially) I've been outside. I'm so lucky to live in this most beautiful of locations - and I've thrived, in the open air. My preferred training patch is definitely now the hinterland past Betchworth, down towards Gatwich Airport, and then back via Newdigate, and (eventually) Box Hill/Lodgebottom Lane. 

Plane coming in to land, at Gatwick

When the weather is good, there really isn't anywhere else I'd rather be. And the route I take now heads back via the Rusper Road, past Tanhouse farm shop, so I can throw a slice of Chocolate Fudge Cake in my belly. Win-win. 

I've felt a little melancholy today, and I'm not sure why, though. Like I'm missing someone, or something. As if there's a hole in my life. A vacuum. I'll head off to bed, crawl under the sheets, and let my thoughts unwind. that's always a good remedy.

Weird weather

 But, at least it got better! This was at about 10.45, this morning, passing Gatwick Airport. thick fog, with the planes taking off overhead obviously subject to delays - the departures were much wider apart than usual. And, I have to say, the fog in this photo isn't all that bad, either - around twenty minutes previously, passing through Norwood Hill, I could hardly see the road in front of me. 

After Gatwick, it did improve slightly, and by the time I had been through Wimlands, and Friday Street, it was much better. the ride back up the Newdigate Road was glorious: fast, flowing, fun. Plus, I was lucky enough to be able to drop in to Tanhouse, for a pit stop. A wonderfully earthy espresso, plus a slice of Chocolate Fudge Cake that coated the ribs and set me up for the journey home.

It wasn't all plain sailing, mind you - on that return leg, my top gear started slipping. I'm fairly sure it's a stretched chain. I must have put at least 5000km on this one, which is plenty. I've been scrupulous about lubing it, and cleaning it after rides - but I do put in some strain, with all that climbing, and the winter weather will not have helped, at all. So, it's time for some remedial works.

Tomorrow, I'll be back on those roads, but it'll be on the Giant, not the Tarmac.

Today has been about sunshine and samples.

 This was the sample. About 50 seconds in. No prizes, obviously. 

Just jaw-droppingly amazing - and such a powerful moment. Sends chills up the spine. 

And the sunshine?

Well, that was from being back out on the bike, obviously. The weather this morning was just perfect. I was out a little earlier than I would have liked; just before 10am, when I left. The roads were still a little slick, and greasy, but once I had passed Esher, everything opened out, and the Sun filled the sky. 

I headed out past Esher, through Cobham, and up Hatchford Hill. Past Bridge End, through Ripley, then up Hungry Hill, and the full length of Ripley Road. This photo is at the top of the road, just before turning back onto the main road, and heading for home. It was a life-affirming experience, being out in the Sun again. I know, it wasn't exactly warm - but that'll come, too. 

Genuinely terrifying

 There were certain points in this video, where I got the fear, big time. A couple of the corners - I didn't think he was going to make it. At these sorts of speeds, there's not much room for error. Having said that, it does look like it's basically the most exhilarating thing, ever.

Oh, and one more thing, at one point, he's doing 80kmh. That's actually 10km/h slower than my fastest speed, on a road bike. Looking at this video, I'm actually tempted to vow that my days of going very, very fast are over.

Busy Weekend

 It all seems to have completely flown by, that's certain.

A bike ride on Saturday morning, once the fog had lifted, then childcare for the large part of the rest of the day, as Pip was out on a jolly (Brits afterparty, lucky for some)

That meant I had to do the run with Marnie, to her Swim Gala in Maidenhead today - up and down the 25, and the M4, on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Thankfully, the traffic was kind - this makes a huge difference, trust me. 

Being in the car for a protracted amount of time allowed me the luxury of diving deep into some of my recent Spotify obsessions, as well. Chief amongst those is Pale Blue Eyes - beguiling, and cerebral indie-Krautrock. This is chiming heavily with me at the moment: a renewed push to get on the turbo trainer has meant I've been listening to LOADS of Motorik Playlists, and bits of what Pale Blue eyes do, have fitted in, nicely.

Enjoy.

Memories

 Hilton Garden Inn, Oakville

Some memories popped onto my Facebook feed today, making me look back at the world tour that ended late last year. What an incredible time - 35 shows, from November 2023, in Japan, finishing up in Esher, the next November. In between, we visited the USA three times, went to Canada, Australia, played all over the UK... it was possibly the most fun I've had, as a member of the band. It wasn't without its challenges, don't get me wrong: at certain points, the sheer weight of responsibility almost overwhelmed me. I certainly felt that my mental health took a sharp turn for the worse, at a number of times. Learning to balance my life, between times of intense activity, and those periods of rest in between, was hugely difficult. 

But I wouldn't have changed it for the world. I sat and pored over the photos, this evening, and selected just this one, to represent what it was all like, for me. A hotel room, in Toronto. My base for about three days. What felt like an oasis of sanity between some hugely complicated travel days. there's my suitcase, by the door. My laptop bag, on top. the two bags that followed me all over the globe - through airports, in vans, into venues. Pushing that case into hotel rooms, lugging it onto the bed, opening the zip. Letting my life, in packing cubes, bags of dirty laundry and washbags, tumble onto the bedding. There's the generic hotel bathroom, repository for the same old toothbrush, the cologne, and the shaving cream. There's a TV on the wall, but it's never switched on. I've not watched a TV, in a Hotel room, for over a decade: it's my sanctuary, my place of rest - television would be an unwelcome guest. 

I stayed in dozens of rooms like this, for the tour. Different views, from the windows, but much the same sorts of places. All of them welcoming, to me, for a short time: but equally, they would all let me go. 

Life on the road is transitory - in that sense, it's like all of our lives. But the transitory nature of road life has its own magic: a glory in the tiny monotonies that make it all tick.

I love being out on the road - and can't wait to do it all over again.

Wow!

 John McKay, the guitarist for Siouxsie & the Banshees, who left at the start of the tour for "Join Hands", alongside drummer Kenny Morris (causing a massive scandal, at the time) is releasing an album of recordings made shortly after he departed the Banshees. It absolutely sounds like a lost post-punk classic, and is incredibly nostalgic, for me. Hearing something sound like a time capsule of 1978, is a Proustian rush. 

It's been a while

 since I felt confident enough to recommend a new young happening band, to all of you hipsters out there. I mean seriously, who's going to care what an old fart like me thinks?

But, I really do think this lot are fantastic, and have some real spark of genius. Whether that translates into any real sense of greater commercial success is up to you lot, I guess.

From what I can tell, they're a loosely organised art collective (hurrah!) sometimes reaching anywhere up to a dozen people, with shifting roles. they have a full-time tambourine player (YES!), whose primary role seems to be summed up as providing "vibes". Honestly, if that isn't a reason to love them, I don't know what is. 

but who are they? And, what do they sound like? Well, they're Mandrake Handshake, and they sound pretty much like King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizzard listening to Krautrock, while simultaneously skinning up on the sleeve of an old Hawkwind album.

And look - they're great live, too. That'll be the "vibes", I reckon. 

Overwhelming relief.

 I've been rather unfit, of late.

Some of it is my fault - bad diet, laziness, drift.

some of it has just been a sense of mild depression and self-loathing, I suppose. mixed in with a large amount of residual grief, following Dad's death. Even writing that down feels strange, alien, and unsettling. 

But it's left me unable to truly enjoy the one thing that makes life noticeably better: getting onto my bike. It's been compounded by the fact that these last eighteen months have been one of the most successful periods for the band, in over three decades. We literally haven't stopped, and that's meant that my work has ramped up, too. I've been buried in logistics, planning, and music. So, trying to exercise, and ride, has been a frustrating pattern of stop/start. It's been almost impossible to build and maintain fitness, so - as you'd expect, fitness has taken a nosedive. One of the really obvious manifestations of this was my reluctance to get onto the turbo trainer. that had previously been a place where I could just get on, smash my way up a mountain, and marvel at the insane levels of effort. I could see the result, sweat my way into fitness and feeling healthy. 

But when fitness takes a dive, so does your confidence. You don't feel like heading back to those hills, because at the back of your mind is the nagging thought that you won't live up to your previous performances. You'll feel like you're failing. So you don't bother.

But, little by little, I've hopped on the trainer, these last few days, and I'm learning to love it again. I'm nowhere near heading up the Stelvio, or Ventoux, just yet - but today, I managed a PB up Puerto De Tudons. Faster than my last attempt, which was actually four years ago. I'm feeling much more energised. Here's to getting healthy again, and banishing all those other demons, too.

Here's the climb, I'll start the video from Sella, as that's the segment on Strava. It took 40 minutes for me, from there to the summit. Around about 215 watts, for those 40 minutes, which really isn't too bad. 

Onwards and upwards.

Back to Donuts

 Almost a decade ago, I started listening - really listening- to "Bitches Brew", by Miles Davis. I mean listening in a constant sense, not just infrequently. I think there was a period where I played it at least once a day, for a month. And then, at least two or three times a week. It enabled some sort of meditative state, in my mind. Hearing it became calming, for me. I relied on it. 

In the last few years, although it's still in rotation, there's a new pretender to the throne. I must have listened to "Donuts" a thousand times, and it still floors me. To take so much that's already been formed into musical language, then reshape it, into something else entirely? I can't quite comprehend its beauty, sometimes. There's a looseness to it, a fragility that can only come from an analogue heart, beating its way through the digital realm. And the sampling! Oh my word, it's perfect.

In fact, listening to this - a collection of all the samples on the record - is filling me with a melancholy wonder. 

Donuts, I love you.

Sunday morning blogging

It's early.

I'm sitting on the sofa bed, in the front room, wondering when I'll hop on the trainer and get a ride in (the weather looks rotten, for the rest of the day). I have a cat sitting next to me, the house is quiet, and the sun is beginning to peek over the houses outside. It's a lovely, peaceful start to the day - and one which comes as a relief, following on from yesterday. that was Milo's birthday celebrations, so we had a houseful of (just) teenage boys, eating Pizza and being lunatics, for a couple of hours. 

Marnie is off to SSP today, so I may be dragged into town, with a boy and his birthday money, desperate for Lego. Hey, there are worse things. 

Another task for today is to fettle a Spotify playlist for as much Motorik as possible. I've found that it's particularly well suited to indoor cycling - that relentless tension, the beautiful monotony. Spotify has its own suggestions, of course - but, as you'd expect, they're patchy, and algo-driven. Sod that.

I am my own algorithm, and I get to say what I want. 

This popped up today

 And I suddenly realised, it's basically my favourite era, for U2. It's that period between October and War - when they were still finding their feet, but musically, they were a simplistic, post-punk thrash, of a band. 

I mean - this is, fairly transparently, an attempt to sound like Wah! Heat. But it's marvellous. Soon, everything would be Red Rocks, and flags, and bombast. US remixes, filling dancefloors. A move towards the big, brash and obvious. 

But in this transitional period (Fire, Gloria, A Celebration) they were untouchable, to me. And, without getting into complex musical analysis, it's just wonderful to hear a song that's so basic! "A Celebration" feels like it's got about three notes. And it's all the better for it. 

I note, with some interest

That posts on this blog, for the year, are now more than at any other time than 2019. That's hugely comforting, and it gives me a small glow of pride, too. Within a month or two, it could be the most amount of posts since about 2012? 

Hey, blogging is the future, after all.

Web 2.0 posse, let me hear ya.

 

A day of business, some drift, admin and boat thoughts.

 Seriously, how am I still thinking about being on board?

Sunrise on the promenade deck

It's been - what - three weeks? And I'd get back on that ship, in a heartbeat. I loved being amidst the absolute silence of the waves, in the stillness of the early morning, watching the world slide gracefully by.

Hell yes, I'd do it all over again.

Today though, has been a day on dry land. Or, it would have been, had it not been bucketing with rain for most of the time. So, instead of heading out onto the open road, I took a day away from the bike, and used my time to catch up on lots, and lots of admin. 

Some of that involved some Google Meet action, and I'm constantly amazed at how much better than Zoom it is. Over the past six months, I've migrated all of my business over to Google Workspace, and it's been revelatory. The ability to scale up one's dreams and ambitions, backed up with some hugely user-friendly app ecosystems. It's changed the way I do business, but also the way that I think about business.

This is required viewing.

 Seriously, it's one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. Recreating the entirety of The Human League's "Don't You Want Me". I'm not kidding here - every single second of this is pure genius. 

Back outside

 Though it may be the last time for a week or so, looking at the weather to come. But, as ever, nothing acts as a salve for the tortured soul, quite like heading up onto Ranmore Common. I even made it up the hill, in about 7'30", which - given my parlous state of fitness - is nothing short of miraculous. 

I also managed to absolutely hammer it down Staple Lane, in a PB time. Considering I'm on a rim brake bike (so, theoretically, less secure and "safe" feeling than a disc brake bike) again, a bit of a miracle. 

This TCR is making my heart, and my mind sing, at the moment. I'm in love with this damn bike.

A long weekend

 Enjoyable, but rather tiring.

Saturday, was out - -out! - in London, for Andrew's birthday, at a pub in Clerkenwell Green. Going to London feels almost novel, now - after so many years when frankly, I'd have been horrified to have been doing anything else. With the advent of kids, one's social life changes, for sure - and being back in the centre of town filled me with a tangible sense of longing and nostalgia. I loved feeling the pulse of the city streets, the possibility, the romance, the frenzy and the silence. 

Got on to the 10.48 from Victoria, so I was not massively late. A relatively easy journey, if I'm honest. But the night was sufficiently late. to make the following day the more tiring of the two weekend days. 

My family was over for Christmas, basically. Somehow, we'd engineered a situation where Xmas just didn't fit into anyone's schedule, and the jaunt to Mull completely blew a hole in all of the previous plans. So, festivities were postponed until a suitable time. Factor in my little jaunt to the Caribbean, and it meant we got together for a festive bash - in February. Ah well, it was still lovely. And I'd not seen mum for a few weeks, so that reunion was especially lovely. Some hearty soup, cheeses with chilli jam, chocolate cake, presents, laughter, reminiscing. 

Thus, the start to the half-term week has been rather gradual. I've not done a lot today, but feel much better for being rested. I've done a supermarket run, cleaned both dishwashers. Helped Marnie exchange a birthday present, in Epsom, as well as paying Xmas money into her bank account (which she fully expects to spend this week, at Westfield). Milo has a Birthday Party to attend, and I've got a house to tidy. It almost feels like I should be telling you about a day of drift, were it not for all this...stuff, that seems to have filled it up.

Oh my word, I love this bike.

2023 Giant TCR Advanced SL

Managed to get outside today - hurrah! And I also managed to drag this bad boy out of the shed. What a life-affirming ride! there's something so immediate, so responsive and so thrilling about this bike. Partly, that's the weight (it weighs a scarcely believable 6.24 kilos, without pedals), but it's also just the DNA of the frame. It actively wants to go fast, it wants to surge ahead (whether you do, or not!). yes, it's mechanical gearing, yes it's rim brake, yes, it's got exposed cables on the headset. It's a collection of tech which is now sold as being "obsolete", and yet it can hold its own against virtually anything else. My SL6 is a thoroughly modern setup, but this TCR is a match for almost any aspect of the new pretender. it gives a little away for the discs, on sketchy descents, and I'd love to be able to throw some wider rubber on, but apart from that - it's perfect. Riding this today (out past Claygate, back through Oxshott, and Leatherhead) put a giant grin on my face, that's still there, hours later.

Must see if I can do it again tomorrow!

Happy Valentine's Day

To a little flower, somewhere.

 

I'm sitting here listening to "Angels In The Architecture". Ah, 1987. A year when I was blissfully happy, and most of the rest of my life was yet to unfold. But that year still resonates, in terms of the music I loved, and still do. It was a period of my life where everything seemed ti imprint itself on me. Everything left its mark, left traces of its DNA. The choices I made, the directions I took - all of these things still echo across the years. I'm not sure why it was the year that I truly became myself, but it was. I think it could have something to do with so much of my "traditional" narrative arc finally subsiding. I'd done school, childhood, college, and University. I'd tried being in love, having girlfriends. Lots of things I believe I should have done. but 1987 felt like the year when I was finally free to do things just for me.

I was on a path to self-determination, I guess. And let's face it, I've never really stopped, with that, have I?

Up to town

 A quick visit to the City, this morning - financial planning meeting. I love this part of London, always have. It just feels…solid, impermeable. There’s a comfort in the geometric layout of it all, in the sense that it’s all built on older foundations. The ghosts of London past always seem to be calling out, to me.

And I’m now heading home, which means I’m actually blogging on a train, which feels very modern indeed. I’m on the 11.25 out of London Bridge, currently speeding past Forest Hill. My Dad would have loved it. He’d have been pointing out things from the window, and telling me how many other suburban branch lines connect to the line I’m on. 

Time for me to head into Epsom, as well. need to get supplies for the weekend.

Missing that damn ship.

 And I'm not quite sure why.

Well, fairly obviously, I'm missing it because I had the absolute time of my life when I was on it - but it seems to go a little deeper. Do you know how I sometimes post about having days that just drift? Well, being on the Ship is the best place to feel like that. It allowed me to let that feeling run, to immerse myself in inactivity, yet still feel engaged, and thoughtful. I loved that.

This also ties into my opinion of cycling—that I need to feel the world moving around me, that I need momentum. Being on the sea allowed me to zoom out, to look down at myself, to assess my place in the world. 

That's what I miss. 

and yeah - I had a drift day today, so that would certainly explain why this has been uppermost in my mind.

Tomorrow is another day. Financial meeting in the morning, then shopping in Waterloo and plotting food for the weekend, when my Mum's coming over to visit. I may have to bust out a Minestrone. 

February - a month full of birthdays

 So, here's the first. Marnie is fifteen! I'm quite amazed, as to how the years have passed. But not only that, I'm in awe of how much has happened, in that time. It's quite comforting, to close my eyes, and sink back into a sea of memory. From West London to Epsom. From Radio, back to the band. 

I've managed to get back on the bike, for the last four days in a row. Tomorrow, it'll be five. I'm rather hoping that the weather will be dry enough for me to get outside - even if it's only on the winter bike. The trainer is fine, but nothing can compare to being on the road. For me, cycling is about momentum, about movement, about feeling as though I'm somewhere - anywhere - in a wider world. That world is still rather dank and dreary, as I watch it through the widow of this front room. Hopefully, tomorrow will be slightly brighter.

How wonderful to see this again

 I'd forgotten that it even existed! It's obviously a whole load of my old Dailybooth photos, cut together, a second at a time. 

Dailybooth was great - obviously, it presaged other photo-staging sites: without it, no Instagram, that's for sure. So, in the end, it was hugely influential. And, its influence lives on in sites like BeReal (which, similarly, I love) 

Bit of a dull start to the day

 And somewhat miserable, too.

Feeling harangued, and hectored. Doesn't really help me find the joy.

But hey ho. Ever onwards, and all that.

Indoor training setup

So, in situations like this, the remedy is always to get on the bike. Or, at the very least, get on the trainer. It's a poor substitute, but it'll have to do. That's me, somewhere in Zion National Park, in Utah. A long, long way away from a dank morning in Surrey, with the shutters closed, and the world seemingly asleep around me. I've managed to get onto the trainer both days of the weekend, and I'm really hoping I can carry on the streak: some sort of situation where I get an hour in, every single day? That would be fantastic. At least until the weather improves, anyway. Plus, of course, if I manage to get outside, at any stage - that's another two hours. I'm feeling like I need to get back to fitness. 

Lots to do today - Milo swimming, and it's Marnie's birthday tomorrow (where does the time go?) so I'll need to source the usual accoutrements - balloons, cakes, gifts. 

Time to reassess.

 I don't think it's any real secret to say that I've struggled, a lot, recently. With Dad passing away, and the first US tour falling apart - all of it started to get to me.

But then 2024 was a really wonderful year. We did so much and achieved so many goals. Literally every single gig was a triumph., Every single show packed with happy people. But that didn't come without a lot of pressure. I've said before (on this very blog) that I've felt burdened, by the weight of expectation. It's not just my outlook - it's the hopes, dreams and expectations of everyone else. that extend outwards, from the other members of the band to the crowds, everyone in the venues, and everyone in supporting roles, in our orbit. I hate letting people down, so sometimes, that fear translates into a sense of dread about the future. A paralyzing anxiety that nothing will go as people hope it will.

Trying to break that cycle isn't easy. And if you get stuck deep inside, as I did at the end of the world tour, it's challenging to come up for air. There's such a wild swing of emotions, between those happy days on the road, and the stasis which follows. 

So, heading off on the cruise was just what I needed. There was a serenity and a grace to looking out at the ocean; a real feeling of understanding my place. I wasn't expecting that, so it was doubly gratifying, to feel that peace coursing through me. It made me realise how far this journey has taken me, and it made me understand the highs, and the lows, a little bit better.

The view from the Quiet deck - port side, level 5. 

Now I'm home, I'm spending a few days processing all that I went through, and letting those lessons sink deep inside of me. It's just what I needed. 

Another wonderful day

Arriving at Cozumel, at about 6 am

Sunrise over Cozumel

Our lunch spot - Senor Iguanas

Grabbing a drink at the port

 

I'm really getting used to this life, on board. It's like a floating city, which seems fairly obvious - but there is one subtle difference that seems to be where the magic lies. In any normal city, you are surrounded by small levels of chaos: people bumping into you in the street or seeing someone who's angry or confused. Perhaps there's traffic, zooming around, and stepping off a pavement feels threatening. You normally factor all of these little deviations into your daily transit through life - but on a boat, they're not there. There's a unanimity of purpose, with everyone on a ship like this. Everyone is here to do much the same thing as you: have a great time. It's not a simple homogenous levelling of the playing field, there's still a huge range of people and outlooks - but it removes a lot of the stressors, without you even noticing. Life gets easier, more laid-back. 

And today has been a very, very laid-back day. We got here (Cozumel) overnight, and slowly approached the dock, finally mooring at around 6.30 am. The boat spins on its axis to accomplish this - which was amazing to experience. After breakfast, we nipped into the port for a look around, but then left the boat again, just before noon, to hire a Taxi, crossing the Island in its entirety. Lunch was on the East shore, at Señor Iguanas  where we ate wonderful Mexican food, drank cocktails, and laughed until our sides hurt. One of those days.

Back to the port for another drink, and back aboard, to tidy my room, and prepare for dinner. Might go and hang at the Lisa Loeb show tonight, and maybe - just maybe - try and catch up on the sleep I've missed.

Having a moment

 Oh, my word.

I've just been looking out at the world. a pitch black night, a gently roiling sea. Tiny crests of waves, buffeted by warm breezes across the Gulf Of Mexico. Above me, there's these small wispy clouds, and above them - nothing but the inky sky, forever and ever. Tiny little groups of stars, hanging in the sky.

When we first started, as a band, I can remember heading to Spain, on our first-ever foreign trip. I was always so amazed that just a piece of music could lead so many people to be checked onto a plane. To be flown to another country. just for music. Just for a song.

And now, it's thirty-five years after I thought like that. And we're still doing this. And it feels just as powerful - but there's now more resonance. Back then, it was someone else's song. Now, I'm as much responsible as anything, or anyone else. I helped put all of us on this boat. I put myself on this boat. I did all of this. And it blows my mind. 

First gig - done

First show of the Cruise

First Sunrise, from the Helipad

View from my Balcony

Well, that's the first one, done. It was perhaps the one I was most nervous about, as we were all in a strange place, due to exhaustion and Jet Lag. But in situations like these - it tends to go one of two ways: either it kind of overwhelms you, or it forces you to fight back, and the tension leads to this fantastic sense of euphoria. you end up feeling quite bulletproof. Last night's show was definitely in the latter category, but that also comes with a price to pay. You end up with an adrenalin high, which, with a 1am finish, meant that most of us slept rather badly. Just what we need.

But, I was awake in time to see the sunrise, and scooted off to the quiet deck on the port side, to grab some photos. I basically just stood there rather awestruck. It was almost contemplative - one of those times when you feel glad to be alive, and your sense of where you are zooms away from your usual close focus, to this widescreen acceptance of a broader picture. I was slightly lost for words. 

Anyway, breakfast is done, a small nap might be a good idea, and then it's a wine tasting in the afternoon. Life on board looks great, right now. 

 

TIme Zones

 Well, jet lag hit me, like a freight train.

Had a lovely dinner, and finished around 7.15. Decided to try and nap for an hour - passed out almost instantly, and got exactly one hour of deep, jet-lagged sleep. At that point, I just knew I was exhausted, and that to try for any more might be a bad idea. But - I also thought - well, maybe just another five or ten minutes.

Massive mistake. Passed out for yet another hour. This time, the jet lag sleep was even deeper, even more like a fever dream. Woke up almost exactly sixty minutes later, now feeling like I was tripping. 

On top of that, despite this laptop, and my watch telling me the correct time (we're on at 11pm), my phone had somehow transferred to another timezone and was now telling me the gig was in three minutes. As I was still in a strange, tripped-out state, It was tough trying to reconcile the fact that my watch was telling me one thing, and my phone another.

But - it is just an hour to go. Damn, that wasn't much fun. I'll now attempt to drag myself into the land of the living and do a gig. 

I'm on a boat!

The Central Atrium

 Standing on the helipad, at the bow of the ship

Well, it's been a pretty insane 24 hours, as it always is, at the start of a tour. And, using the word "tour" feels kind of odd, as we're essentially in the same place, for the next five days. Two gigs, a wine-tasting and an interview session. That's our workload. But getting here was a pretty long day. Up at 5am, then packing the case. Into a cab at 11am, from Epsom, and off to Heathrow. Then, after a really painless check-in, into the lounge to work on schedules for the release of tickets for the EMF/JJ shows in October. 

From there - onto the plane. And here's where it gets very cool: it was actually pretty empty. That just doesn't happen anymore, at all. With the advent of online ticketing, and multiple systems crawling the net to allocate tickets, most airlines can predict passenger loads, adjust schedules, and provide just the right amount of planes, with just the right amount of seats. The end result: most planes these days are packed - especially in economy. Because if there were spare seats, they'd be aggressively sold, until capacity is reached.

but somehow, this Virgin plane was lovely and empty. I've not seen wide open spaces like that, for at least 20 years.

Stretch out and sit where you want! 

But, it was a long flight - ten hours, down to Tampa - with a noticeable headwind for large parts of the journey. It's one of those flights where the engines are fighting waves of wind - they sound like they're constantly spooling up, then almost being switched off, which is somewhat disconcerting. But, it was fine. We got to Tampa around 8pm, local time, hotel by around 9.30pm. Then, to a bar called The Bricks to celebrate Alan's birthday. From there, I went back to bed, to try and pass out. Only a partial success - I was awake at about 3.30 am, but grabbed another hour or so, in fitful napping. Checkout at 9am, off to the Harbour, to check in, for the Cruise. We were ushered into a lounge, for a private function - essentially welcoming all of the "talent" (always makes me laugh) and giving us instructions for the next few days. Then, time to check the guitars on the hire pull list, visit tonight's venue, and try and powernap before soundcheck. that's in around half an hour's time. Then? Get some food, get some sleep, and we're not on until 11pm. So it's a late one. I suspect that jet lag will hit us pretty hard, at some point. Not much we can do about it, so we'll just have to make the most of things. 

Oh, and this boat hasn't even moved yet - we're still docked. If I post tomorrow, I'll try and get some shots of the open seas. Honestly, this is one of the oddest things I've ever done, but at the same time, it's quite thrilling.

I'm off tomorrow

 So you can expect postings on the blog to be somewhat interrupted, I think. I have no idea what the internet policy or cost is, on the boat - but I'm guessing it'll be quite steep.

*Sigh*

but I'll try not to let it stop me. I've become rather accustomed to this little blog, again. Wouldn't like to be seen to be neglecting it, oh no. 

Today then, is the last day before I head off across the globe, and I'm currently avoiding anything that looks like comprehensive packing an organisation. Instead, I'm blogging, and learning about Be-Bop Deluxe.

Never you change, Iain. 

Time for some sleep - then, early breakfast, pack that case. Check, check again, and recheck all of the band stuff. Jump in a cab at 11. Off to Terminal 3, we leave around 3pm. More tomorrow, If (and only if) I can drag my sorry behind into a lounge)

A little more organisation

On the software, for the next two shows.

I run NI Kontakt, and there have been a few minor issues since upgrading recently. Today, it was all about trying to merge instruments (or, .nki files) into a collection of different instruments, grouped together (basically, a set, for the band - this is known as a multi, or a .nkm)

The program wouldn't merge anything together and even kept shutting down. Turns out that the "merge when loading" option had been automatically deselected by the upgrade - I literally would never thought of checking. Anyway, one small tick in the box, and I'm all sorted. Phew!

 And, as I prepare to set sail on the seven seas (or, whatever) this photo is bringing me a lot of joy, and a small wrenching of the heart, too. That's Marnie, helping Milo with his homework. Amazing stuff, I wouldn't have believed it, had I not seen it with my own eyes.

I've been through the set and got the shopping done. I need to get a few things done before I'm away - getting clothes sorted is top of the list - and I need to book a cab.

But today, my work here is done. Time to think about the kid's tea. 

Time to draw breath

 Did some shopping, and some packing. Went into town, and bought a new mattress. Sat on the sofa sorting things out, overlooked by this dude. After a week (or so)of being utterly focused on rehearsing new songs, it was a day to exhale. 

But it's finally time to think about layering, about organising, about plotting which things I need to throw in that case. Which books will I need on the Kindle, and which audiobooks will I need on the phone? which Spotify playlists to download. I love diving down into the tiny little details of travel, the small things that make outsized differences to your comfort and your enjoyment of time away. It's time to think about those things, for a day or two.

A palpable victory.

 That's what today was. First rehearsal in over a year (!), and we smashed it. I know, a year without rehearsals seems like a long time, and - well, it is. But there's a solid reason for that. We spent most of 2024 (and the tail end of 2023) gigging, constantly. We did Japan, Australia, The US, and the UK. All in all, it worked out at 35 shows - more than at any other time since 1993. So, we knew the set, inside out, we'd lived and breathed the songs, and we'd performed them in all sorts of situations and locations. So, they'd become a part of us. We really didn't need to try and underscore that knowledge, by rehearsing. 

But, since the last show of the world tour, and downtime over Xmas, it felt like time to get back in the studio once more. So, here we are. 

And damn, it was great. After all of the hard work, and practising the songs at home, it was a relief to hear it all come together. 

outside is always the best side

 Thank goodness! Back out on the bike today. Post-storm calm, dazzling blue skies, a crisp feeling of spring in the air. The weather will take a turn for the worse, over the next few days - so it was time to enjoy it whilst I could. Up and over Headley, down Pebble Hill, through Betchworth and Leigh. Deanoak Lane and Ironsbottom, to the Fox Revived. Literally my favourite route in the world, at the moment. I even ambled up Box Hill, which I've not done in absolutely ages. 

I was also back on the winter bike- the old Trek Domane. It's been such a faithful companion - and the bike that launched me into cycling properly. I've got a lot to thank it for. But there's no denying that it makes a perfect winter bike - the comfort, the Di2, the bombproof wheels, the second-tier groupset that I don't have to worry about, too much. Possibly the only drawback is rim brakes, but I'll be honest, the roads were wet and miserable today, and rim brakes weren't an issue, at all. I think that's possibly due to the Ksyrium Exalith wheels - the braking surface is as good as it gets, for a rim brake wheelset. 

The rest of the day has been an archetypical Saturday: early run to Sainsbury's, cooking, tidying. The Archers, Oatcakes, mushrooms on toast for my lunch. A lovely day. 

Breakthrough

 Finally feels like I'm getting to grips with the old songs - and here's what it looks like, to distill all of the information about a track, into a framework that makes sense, to me

It's like a map, really; a way to navigate the song, pointing out my movements, along the way. 

I can still recall first joining the band, in October 1988. I went along to rehearse for the very first time and made just the same sort of map. A small piece of cardboard, folded in half. On it, instructions for at least six or seven songs. I think I used that bit of cardboard for at least the first couple of dozen shows. Balancing it on the left-hand side of the keyboard, I could subtly glance over, halfway through a song, and make sure I knew what was coming next. 

I'm fairly sure that I'm a better musician and performer than I was, back then, but it's faintly reassuring to realise that my internal mapping process hasn't changed at all. I still have exactly the same approach, as I did. Very comforting.

With that breakthrough out of the way, it's also allowed me to open the window into personal logistics for the Cruise, next week. Up until now, I've just been preoccupied with the songs. That was front, and centre. Now I've reached the other side, my brain has shifted slightly, and I'm starting to think about the clothes I'll need. Shall I pack some trunks? Do I need flip-flops? Have I still got any sun cream? Shall I buy more toothpaste? All of the small, everyday things that seem like a grind, but in fact - hold the magic of travel. Bring it on. Time to plot. 

The noise in my head

 Has been there for most of my life. It's me, and I've come to terms with it and learned to live with it, to ignore it, to block it out, and occasionally, to let it out. Most notably, it tends to emerge when I'm on stage. I've been lucky enough to have almost four decades, where I can stand on a stage, and regulate my emotions and my internal dialogue. It's a safety valve, I suppose, and I'm very thankful to have the privilege to be able to control what's inside.

sometime back in the 1980's, I also realised that it's the sort of force which can be harnessed to music: that's obvious, for something which I do onstage - but it's also apparent in my off-stage life too. I can put something like this, on - and be instantly aware that I'm channelling, and martialling my fears and anxieties.

And the Husker Du link has grown, over the years, to the point where listening to their records feels like being on stage, for me. And conversely, when I'm onstage, that's always the sort of thing which plays on my internal jukebox.

I'm off on the cruise in exactly a week, and I'll be sure to have the entire discography ready, and to hand at all times.

Not the world's greatest musician

 Really, I'm not.

And today, that's all come into focus, as I've been attempting to work out the parts for some of the old songs we're putting back into the set. The main problem for me is that I do almost everything on feel - on instinct. I rely on muscle memory and have to almost forget where I am, and what I'm doing before I can truly play properly. 

It's never held me back before, and I always manage to get there in the end - but it's a frustrating and tiring slog, to get through it all. 

Just been looking at ticket sales for the Bedford show, in March (come and see us!) and then also plotting what we'll be doing, later in the year. It's been. busy few days, but I do feel somewhat energised, which is a profound relief. The whole of Xmas and New Year was one long stressful journey into anxiety. I'm glad to see the back of that.

Tonight, there's still a lot to do - dinner for everyone (and Marnie is off doing Swimming Training, so the schedule is a bit fragmented) and maybe listening to the Archers, If I get the time.

Despite Strummer doing his best to disrupt me

 It's actually been a day of real progress. I do think that part of that has been working at my desk. Normally, I just sort of... trundle around the house, laptop in tow, like a digital nomad, confined to barracks. but, I won't lie to you, it felt good to be moored to a proper surface. I've made videos, mailed contacts, sorted things out, and been on calls. I've done some updates for the socials, and  I've got a to-do list that's now completely, well, done. 

I'm rather pleased with myself, as you can probably tell. So I'm off downstairs to listen to the rest of that Nada Surf album and make a curry for the kids.

Faking a policy on deepfakes.

 Here's a story from the BBC, about how Facebook intended to crack down on celebrity ad scams. You'll know the sort of thing if you've spent any time on social media recently - oh, here's Joe Rogan, or Elon Musk, filmed in what looks like a podcast interview, talking about how they can make fortunes playing some sort of hokey app, or whatever. It's an AI voice-changing scam.

Well, I saw the same ads you did, knew it was all BS, and just thought I'd ignore it, as I was able to discern right, from wrong. But after a few weeks, I then thought - well, why the hell not? And decided to report some of them. It's not the sort of thing I normally do, because - who's got time for that, eh?

But - let's try. 

I reported half a dozen instances. Same ad, the one with Joe Rogan, and Elon Musk. Very recognisable fake, 100% a scam. Reported it as a scam. "Celebrity impersonation". ticked all the boxes, as far as Facebook's complaint procedure goes. So far, so good. I sit back and wait. And today, I got half a dozen messages back from Facebook. They didn't remove the ads. 

If something so blatant, so egregious won't even pass their censors, you have to ask yourself, if this is not a simple case of their automated scam protection systems failing - is it something more egregious? Because, to me, it looks like they know what's happening, and they'll make a show of pretending as if they care, but they don't. they don't give a shit about you, or me, or anything. 

I'm starting to think that we're facing the death spiral of social media. Despite its huge influence (and initially, its massive potential), this wave of misinformation, distortion, lies and bullshit just can't continue. We need to return to a sense of our own independence, online. Our own domains, our own blogs, our own voices. We need to regain our personal digital sovereignty, and we need to do it before SM can wreak any more havoc. 

Actually

 Let's have a proper little life update, as opposed to me wallowing in my mild depression, shall we? I did manage to do a lot of rehearsing today, which was great. some of the new/old songs are quite complex, in their arrangement, as regards samples - plus, there's no muscle memory, as yet.

Muscle memory is perhaps the most important thing, with regard to what I do, when I'm on stage. I can let go, I can forget about almost everything else, and let the world drift over me and through me, But first, I need to have those songs almost fall out of my fingers, without a second thought. That doesn't just take time, it takes the ability to close the gap between the firing of the synapses. You have to be able to think about not thinking, to watch your muscles twitch and contract, as they dance across the keys. That's what I need to tap into, and it'll take a little more time.

Today has also been notable for the beginning of a new, regular Breakfast routine (something that regular readers of this blog will have come to recognise, is a crucial component of my day)

For the longest time, it was Soba noodles, then overnight oats. Now, I've gone even more simplistic. I've now taken to Oatcakes. four of them, with a quick smear of Marmite on each. Savoury, filling, quick and easy. 

Today

 I do what's in front of me now. that seems like. a plan, doesn't it?

Yes, I realise I'm being moderately facetious, here - but this has echoed down through a cold, miserable Monday, and made my life better.

Right now, I need this. I need something. 

Raving and misbehaving.

 Well, that's what it used to be like. But now, it's just raving. Probably just as well. 

This was today's Big Fish Little Fish - me and Dylan, at the Dorking Halls. such an amazing gig - literally one of the best we've ever done, and we've been playing together for a decade! there was just something about the vibe today - I'm not entirely sure what it was. The first half hour contained a portion where I performed some of the best mixes it's ever been my pleasure to put together. like I said - just amazing.

Apart from that, it's been a cold, dank sort of a day. A January day that makes me long for April. Right now, that month feels like a long, long way in the distance.

Ah, the 1980's.

 I've been thinking about that decade, today.

Don't get me wrong, I love the 80s as much as the next person, but it does feel like people misunderstand all of the undercurrents of that long, weird decade. It's - well, all the usual suspects: Cocaine, glitz, vapid vacuity, greed and conspicuous consumption. It's jackets with huge shoulder pads - and that's the one that always sticks out (sic) for me: it's an abnormal silhouette of a decade. 

But amongst all of the things we accept, and probably take for granted, I've spent the ensuing years marvelling at what was just under the surface. A sense that the world was fraying, spinning slightly off its axis. I know that I've referenced Philip Glass's "Koyaanisquatsi", and that's particularly apposite - "life out of balance", and the 80s really feel as though that internal gyroscope begins to teeter and sway.

One of the albums that has accompanied me, as 2025 gets underway is "Graceland" - how's that for a sign of the times, then? - and the frustrations and confusions contained in "The Boy In The Bubble" feel like they still call out, even as the days have turned into forty years. Sonically, the song has aged, but lyrically, it's right on point, for the crazy times we live in, now.

Rehearsing

 And it's meant I need a new keyboard. the old one (visible in the back of this photo) was really on its last legs. I'm trying to recall how long I've had it - was it ten years? Or maybe even longer. I know I was using the newer "main" stage keyboard seven years ago, so it's a long way back from that. 

Anyway - let's assume the old one has done fifteen years. And I've replaced it, like-for-like, with another keyboard, to act as my backup, or spare. The good news: it's so cheap, to do this. A replacement is about £40, which seems like an absolute bargain.

Also, apologies for the room being in a state, I'll tidy it soon, I promise.

Thank goodness.

 Managed to get back out on my bike, yesterday. For the first time in what felt like forever. A quick pootle over Headley, then dropping down Pebble Hill, to the lanes around Leigh, Norwood Hill and Brockham. If If I'm honest, this is absolutely my favourite part of the county, to ride: so quiet, wonderful views, great roads. 

And here's a quick image, to show you that I'm not kidding about the views. Just a lovely view down the valley which falls away from Punchbowl Lane, to the south of Pixham. In the distance you can see the North Downs - Box Hill, where I would be cycling to. I love viewpoints like this, where the sky seems to weigh down on me, where the fields roll away, and the county stretches out so gracefully. I'm lucky to be where I am, to be able to do what I do. Views like this always make me grateful, for everything. 

One more thing

 I do feel as though I should share this information - I've been listening to The Archers, recently. I love it. Doesn't just remind me of my youth - it reminds me of my time in the countryside, too. Win-win. But it feels a little strange committing time to a soap opera, that really hasn't happened for decades, in my life. 

I am currently trying to devise a strategy where I can still listen to it, even if I can't get reliable internet on the boat (each episode is only about 30meg - they can almost be emailed!

A day of drift

 But, tantalisingly, it does feel as though the weather will be good enough, tomorrow, to head out on the bike. At long last! It does feel as though this winter has gone on forever - both in a temporal sense, as well as a psychological one. 

I'm the rat, emerging from the maze. Or something.

So today felt like things were going to happen. But not quite yet. 

Walked around Ashtead again, this time up and around Shepherd's Walk (via Gray's Lane), and back along Rookery Hill,  past the City Of London's Freemen's School. Lovely old building - and, Joe Strummer's alma mater, which never fails to make my spirit soar. I've also been busy with logistics and management stuff today: couple of potential festival nibbles, in the US, and offers for UK shows too. All of that and I'll be on a Cruise Ship in two weeks! I'll never stop being grateful for the band, and the opportunities it brings. 

More Walking

 And another amazing day - so cold, but so clear. I strolled up part of Stane Street - the Ermyn Way, through Ashtead, and towards Cherkley Court. Pretty amazing to think that this part of Stane Street would have been in use almost a couple of thousand years ago. 

Came across the remains of this burned out car - I'm fairly sure it's an Astra GTI, a hot hatch, that's been nicked, and then set on fire. I don't think it was burned here, but it appears to have been moved. I'm also fascinated as to how the little scrotes who took it managed to get it up to Stane Street in the first place - this is just a track, and there aren't any points of access, for vehicles, at all. I'm going to hazard a guess and say they drove it via the car park at Green Lane, and then over open fields. that would have killed the suspension, and possibly the engine too. After that, it was only ever going to end one way: in flames, sadly. 

Shoes

 

A beautifully clear and crisp day. A morning walk, in the mist and sunshine, with the frost under my feet. So periodically, I looked down at my feet, crunching over icy ground, only to have my spirits lifted by the sight of my Doc Martens. I've got a pair of cherry red "Made In England" ten-hole boots, just a wonderful pair of shoes to walk around in, as you'd expect. but the reason I still have a pair is less to do with the efficacy of the shoes, and more about the heady rush of nostalgia that surrounds DM's. 

At my school, literally, everyone wore them. I'd guess that around 75% of the boys had DMs. Cherry Red was a particular favourite - normally polished with black boot polish, so that, eventually, they'd end up the colour of a livid bruise. Proper 1970's hooligan style. I think I had a black pair, but what I do remember, is being obsessed with the look and the style of them, plus the way that a simple pair of boots afforded you entry to a wider group of your peers. Wear a pair, and belong. 

I'll always recall seeing the outline of the boots, as I walked to and from school, the curve of the toe-piece, the geometric lines along the sides of the sole. The network of creases that formed, as they aged. 

I can look down now, and I'm transported. It's a wonderful feeling. 

How I wish the weather would improve.

 Right now, there's only one thing I need to do - and it's get outside, on this. For my sanity, my mental health, my actual health.

I suspect I'll actually be out on the winter bike, or possibly the do-it-all Tarmac SL6 (it's disc brake, so a bit more friendly for those muddy, wet Surrey lanes) but this is the real joy of my life, when it comes to bikes. It's the absolute pinnacle of Rim Brake technology, and was built from the frame up, to be just that.

It's a 2023 Giant TCR Advanced SL0 frameset (the very last of their flagship rim brake frames) with full Dura-Ace 9100 (mechanical, natch), Roval CLX 50 wheels, Turbo Cotton 28mm tyres, and Fizik Cyrano R0 bars. It's got a Giant Carbon stem, plus a weight-weenie Selle San Marco Mantra saddle. Without pedals, it's a shade under 6.2kg, which is just insane. The damn thing actively wants to hammer up those hills, whether you want to, or not.

I'm not sure quite how it happened

 But I seem to have been listening to a lot of Emerson, Lake & Palmer, this week.

Truly, they were always a step too far, into the land of Prog, for me. But, I do really appreciate those rapid, and inexplicable swings in my taste, which lead me to delve into areas I've not previously anticipated. And overall - you know what? It's been a pleasant journey. Those "Works" collections seem completely self-indulgent, but the first few albums are great. 

But yeah - what's next, Camel? Gentle Giant? 

This is where my head is at.

 Absolutely incredible article about the way that Social media is corroding our society. In essence, SM is bad for trust in Governments, Media, Institutions and people in general. So, if you have people who lose faith in governments, they lose trust in what that Government is saying. As we've always hoped, it's the Government's job to give us the normal, boring facts about everyday life . Jobs numbers, statistics, reports. And now, social media has made an entire generation distrust all of those facts. They just want to "do their own research". Facts are dull, and conspiracy is way more exciting. There's a visceral thrill to the sort of whacked-out nonsense that SM gives us. So, that's what people want. I thought Trump was a bug, but he's a feature, of the oncoming wave of idiocy, that'll wash over us all. As we sit and preen, with our performative social posts, about our favourite fabric conditioner, how we're working with brands, and how we can monetise AI to give us a side hustle. 

That performative aspect of SM has been gnawing away at me, over the last few months. I've obviously been deep in SM, as the band has worked its hardest, throughout 2024. Honestly, I think that corrosive effect has been eating me alive. You end up in thrall to the cold, dead voice of social media, enslaved by the audience, working to stay afloat and alive. 

What I always loved about a blog was its authentic voice. This is MY voice. the blog is me. I can watch as the letters I type coalesce into recognisable words and phrases. There's no gap, between thought and expression (thanks, Lou). I'm not a performing seal, I'm not attempting anything other than to make my way through my own life. I'm free of any outside pressure, other than my own shitty impulses. 

At the moment, I'm contemplating changing, a little. Perhaps throttle back from Facebook, a bit. Save the more integrated posts about myself (longer ruminations on what I've been doing, the music I love, and so on) for here. Otherwise, I'm just harvesting likes and clout. I'm a performing monkey in a Zoo. And, on current evidence, it would seem that the Zoo is overrun with feral creatures, hellbent on eating each other alive. I'm determined to stop feeding the frenzy.