Friday, 29 August 2008

Conversations with my fridge #24

Today, my fridge decided it would (in binary code) explain to me just how depressed it feels when the radio (which is on top of the fridge) won't talk to it. I tried explaining to the fridge that the radio is just a piece of electronic equipment, and doesn't have the capacity for independent thought, and certainly doesn't have a soul. We laughed about this for while (I laughed, the fridge clicked)and we cheered ourselves up by taking the piss out of the toaster, who then sulked and wouldn't talk to either of us for hours. Sometimes, I think I should get out more. But the fridge would miss me too much.

Thursday, 21 August 2008

Break-ins and Time Outs

After a burglary and the dull days of organisation afterwards, my spirits are lifted by the arrival of a book in which some of my writing was included. The Book is called "Hang The DJ"(faber&faber) and it's basically a lists book, with people saying why they like certain songs, wrapped up in some tenuous idea for a list. But it'll please my father to see me doing some proper writing, instead of this music nonsense. The last few days have been an enforced time out while I pick up the pieces after the break-in, but it makes you feel for people in far worse situations than mine. I can't complain about one break-in in 21 years of living in London. I mean, I can... but I'm not going to. Plus it gives me a chance to sit back and listen to my latest songs, as I'm not in the mood to write. And I make a great discovery. Everything I've written is shit, and it's time to start over. This is not necessarily a bad thing. I am now proposing we all burgle Chris Martin's house and see if his next album is better than the last.

Wednesday, 13 August 2008

McRaeped Crusader

Someone invited me to the Batman movie. I throw on a jacket and walk out of the house without changing the clothes I’ve been wearing all week and without combing my hair, only to find that I’m at the premiere. Needless to say no one takes my photograph or asks for an autograph. Notice Christian Bale in a bad mood, could this be something to do with the fact he was arrested earlier in the day for alleged assault? Am torn between watching the film, (and were those vertiginous scenes necessary?) and watching Sir Ian McKellen with whom I can only assume is his nephew or his boyfriend. I am sitting next to Gandalf. Awesome.

Reasons why Damien Hirst is a cockucker#4012

Unless you have to face your own limitations as an artist everyday and try and overcome them, then you’re just an organiser. Damien hirst employs other people to make his “work”. Ipso Facto, and QED…Damien, you’re a cocksucker.

Next week: why people who use Latin inappropriately are also cocksuckers.

Crispy Realisations #802

Does it matter if lyrics are shit? Especially if you can’t hear them anyway, but the music sounds nice? Make reference to Bon Iver’s beautiful but nonsensical record…and anything by Radiohead ever. Emails of outrage and complaint to

Tom’s DIY tips:

When using cement, remember to wash it off unprotected skin immediately, and don’t let it dry on your finger tips, like I did. The resulting skin loss and pain stopped me playing guitar for days. On the upside, the patio looks great, and will be ready in time for the Autumn storms and indoor BBQ I have planned to celebrate my return to the states. A further note: only when skin has fully healed attempt the eating of salted peanuts and slicing of lemons for accompanying vodka tonic. The resulting pain stopped me drinking for days. I may be lying about that last bit.

Tom on the environment:

We're fucked.

Tom on the economy:

We're fucked.

Interesting things I’ve seen in the cemetery recently:

The other day I saw a woman rubbing stinging nettles on her shins. This being the part of London it is, I assumed she was mad and moved away quickly. Later, I thought maybe it was a remedy for arthritis or some natural medicine. Still later I wondered if the stinging pain took her mind of other more serious issues she may have. Much later I considered the fact that dock leaves grow next to stinging nettles, the poison and the remedy sharing the same small space. Much much later I thought about how nice my neighbour is, and what in terms of stinging nettles that says about me. And just yesterday I remembered eating the stinging nettle soup my mum made when I was a kid, although I maybe confusing this with an episode of ‘the good life”. In short, stinging nettles… they’re interesting aren’t they?

Tuesday, 12 August 2008

This is me, with a fish I caught. I like fishing. It calms my fevered mind. Does this make me boring? Am I headed in the direction of all middle-aged musicians? I'll think about it after I've had my nap.