... about the things I want to say.
And I'm a poet!
And I know it!
But seriously ... I'm finding it hard to say anything, write anything.
But I have my duty.
And here it is!
Words, words, words!
'Talk about your music, boss.'
Yeah, yeah. I'm on safe ground with my music.
I can always talk about my music.
My demo? Well, I've recorded - under great stress, yes - fifteen versions of Mighty Soul, and fourteen versions of Shady, Dodgy, Shifty, and eight versions of The Future ... ... ...
BUT(!) ...
I haven't listened to any of them yet.
'Why not?'
I haven't wanted to. Maybe tonight. I'm just hoping that there are useable versions there somewhere.
'Are you hopeful, Mikey?'
Well, yeah ... reasonably, Voice.
Anyway ...
I'm in no mood for Christmas this year.
Anyway ...
'You should have done a PR email.'
Yeah, yeah.
I'll do a conceptual later, kooks. Spinning a-ROUND does help me a lot, you know? 'Oh, they know!'
Yeah.
Okay. The cosmos knows everything. It knows everything in your heart, your mind, and your soul.
Are they all different things? I mean ... never mind. 'Never soul!' Whatever.
The cosmos knows. If it can be bothered to look, like.
And you can hide from other people - if that's your thing - but you can't hide from the cosmos.
So, when you're in trouble ... you, you, you ... try to focus on the cosmos, try to raise your consciousness a bit, or a lot.
'As much as you can manage, kooks!'
That's right. Thanks, Voice. As much as you can manage. Push yourself. Push your soul.
Anyway ...
Terry Hall from The Specials has died. I remember in 1980 when me and my mate Gerry stood outside the concert hall at Brunel University listening to the vibrations coming through the walls.
Anyway ...
Laters.
'Bye.'
