Yeah, yeah, yeah!
I'm feeling real chaotic this morning.
So ... just some thoughts, as they come ... no editing, much.
Maybe I'll steal some Tomahawk missiles ...
'You've got to build a railing system first.'
Shut up!
Anyway ...
Man, I've got to make a big effort to record Shady, Dodgy, Shifty soon. I'm concerned about all the noises though in the street at all hours. It's getting worse. And I swear there are more planes and helicopters around these days, you know?
'You need better windows, boss. Your ones are crap.'
Yeah, I know, Voice. They might as well not be there.
New windows? Forget about it.
Never mind.
I could just go with Mighty Soul. But even that recording ... I don't know ... I'm not completely happy with it.
I mean ...
Well, it's the acoustic nature of it, you dig? It requires the listeners to use their imaginations. 'Ha!' Exactly.
They've got to imagine the band playing ... the bass ... the drums ... the electric guitar ... the keyboards ... maybe even the strings???
When you listen to an acoustic cover on YouTube of a famous song ... it's a bit different because you know the original. It's easier to imagine shit then.
There's also the problem of being unknown. I mean, there's a really crap demo of Strawberry Fields Forever that John Lennon made, but ... because he's "John Lennon", it got likes when I tweeted it a while ago. I tweeted it as a test. And it really is awful. God knows what people would think if it was a new song by John Smith or Joe Bloggs. Do you know what I mean, kooks?
'What are you going to do then?'
I don't know.
Poetry??? Again???
One thing I should have considered - a long time ago - about poetry is ... you can become "known" slowly, one poem at a time, and no one has to invest too much in you. I mean, you can win a prize in a competition, or ... someone can pay you £50 to publish the poem in their magazine. Or even just £5. You dig?
It's not like novels or plays where people have to take a big financial risk.
Music??? Again???
Listen! When I'm in Cornwall ... if I can carry me guitar around ... with the rucksack ... like some poor donkey, Christ! ... I'll play all day ... maybe I'll go busking ... I'll live (live?) music 24/7 ... total immersion!
'I thought you were going to write poems 24/7, boss?'
Ha! I'll write a few ... or a lot. I don't know.
I'll probably throw my guitar over a cliff at some point because I'll get tired of carrying it around everywhere.
'Oh, you can carry it around. If it becomes too much ... just scream, "You don't know me, son!!!" ... like David Goggins.'
Ha, ha, ha! Yes, I'll try that, Voice. Thank you. That's good advice.
In fact I could try it now ... in every situation.
Goggins screams at the world like that for a very good reason. The world is shit. People can't see inside him. They can't see his soul.
And even with his millions of followers on Instagram ... people don't know him. Do you understand?
Oh, I've been watching that Alexander film with Colin Farrell. It's a flawed film, sure, but it has some good scenes.
If Alex were alive, he would know Goggins.
Just saying.
[Goggins might be talking to himself: "They don't know me, son."]
Anyway ...
Poetry??? Again??? Again???
Oh, my poem is a great poem. It's best not to compare it to Yeats. I was reading some of Hamlet's speeches last night. That's more like it! In a modern voice, obviously. My poem has grandeur, man. Grandeur that might actually be out of place in the modern world. However, I make it bearable to modern ears - I reckon - by using sardonic humour.
Francis Bacon. The painter. His stuff has grandeur, too. And it's modern. He made it work. Do you understand?
You've got to make grandeur work, these days.
No humour though with paintings. That's a big no, no. NO - !!! And even with poems ... not silly humour. Just sprinkle a bit of sardonic humour over them like salt on your chips.
DOES ANYONE UNDERSTAND ME - ?!?!?!
Painting???
Uh.
How did we get on to that? I'm not discussing painting.
I'm not discussing anything.
My brain is collapsing.
That's no lie.
Bye.
'Bye!'
