Monday, 7 July 2014

No one wants to invest in supermarkets no more

And I don't blame them, the investors. Take a look at this. / Supermarkets are horrible places. They treat their staff like shit. Don't even pay all their staff. (Workfare slaves!) They pay farmers nothing. Practically steal their milk and potatoes and shit. Ugly buildings. They put small shops out of business. And they've got those evil robot tills now - which I won't use, out of principle.

I remember ... / Yes, I remember, man ... years ago ... in my youth, I was working in a supermarket ... for my sins. There was some sort of cockamamie training session in the HR room. We had to listen to a really boring lecture about how wonderful our supermarket was. I think we did a couple of tests. On the level of Peter And Jane Go To The Park. Something like that. Ha! 'Ha!' And basic maths. Two plus two equals four. That sort of thing. I didn't say a word the whole time I was in there. Afterwards, a manager came up to me and said, "Did you understand what was happening, Michael? I mean, you didn't say anything." I mumbled, morosely, "Yes." And he went off. But inside I was thinking to myself, "Understand?! I read fucking Kafka novels, mate." / So, as I say, horrible, hellish places.


Sunny day today. So what? It's summer. It's what you expect. Though we don't always get it.

I might go out after lunch. Or I might stay in. My life is so exciting. Obviously, it could be worse.

I'm not complaining. Whisky and women almost wrecked my life. I'm just glad to be alive.


I'm making progress with the alternate picking. I'm almost as good now as when I was doing the "wrong" picking.

I need to change my strings. I've done close to eighty hours on the D’Addario phosphor bronzes. They're going off, man.

I'll put some Martins on. / Yeah. 80/20 bronzes - for your information, dear reader(s).

Recording? Oh, I don't know. Who knows?! When it feels right, when I'm in the groove ...

I don't need anyone giving me grief over it, you dig?