Wednesday, 25 March 2015

Strangeways Here We Come - or - A Few Hippie Jumps Short Of A Commune

3 days (each way) on a bus to lose our minds and break our bodies in Barcelona. Spanish wine in England. 

croissants in Paris 

oh man, you had to be there...

best seats in the house

half-past France.

crouching lager hidden badman  

Bruno outside the international CNT hq

Kieran was on a strict diet of cronk, beer & 'ippie jumps  

wacky races

midnight battles with tight situations, so much piss and flying bags of cat litter 

all the hepatitises 

Rees adds his tuppence worth

Milo couldn't stand up at this point, which didn't seem to affect his wallrides for some reason? 

Maxxx - 'oss 'igh wallie

when the going gets weird...


loves young dream

Serin goes the distance for a tough crowd

you fuck around, you lay around

The Absinth Cronkicals. Volumes 1 - 6

Stoop Hoopla. Stoopla.

things (boards/bodies/brains) fall apart. Fin.

Sunday, 1 March 2015

Free Codine

wrote this in a flurry of similar activity on Thursday evening...

The Jagged Edge – or – this is what White Line Fever is about, if not cocaine

Ride the wind
Or the rails
Or whatever

There’s some strange sort of
Or tension
Or something

From sailing close
To the jagged edge
When you sail too close

And the jagged edge
looms out
from the murk of fiction
and reminds you
of your own, crashing

and if you survive
well enough to lick your wounds;
to taste the burn
and the dirt
of the jagged edge

you’ll smile
a strange sideways smile
knowing you can never go back

and if you don’t
then you’re already there

the jagged edge don’t care
and with any luck
will get you in the end

better than a care home
and spiraling debt
and someone else
who doesn’t want to be there
wiping your arse
and stealing your watch


then this happened mid-dayish Friday

thank fuck for the NHS & free Codine! 12 hours in A&E, 5 x-rays, a bit of concussion and a sore neck and not one thing broken...bloody poetic premonitions!
So it goes.