'Yippee! Your song The Future. Let's hear it then, boss.'
What?!
'Your song The Future.'
The future, idiot! My future! The future!
'Oh, okay. Don't get upset.'
I'm not upset!!!
Anyway, kooks ...
I probably will be heading for Cornwall soon. When? I don't know. I have no control over events.
My life might be quite "dodgy" down there for the first couple of months, or even longer. I really don't know.
However, if I get settled, this will be my plan, besides getting a job ...
1] I'll continue to promote my music online, slowly, maybe for years. I may have to sell my guitars ... and then buy a new one. Whatever. I'll continue to work on my BIG TWENTY of songs. / I was reading in that Oasis book, Supersonic, how the band felt a bit humiliated in the early days being turned down by Factory Records when they went to see the company with a demo tape. After that, they vowed to never approach another company. That's the best way to be.
2] I'll stop writing this blog. Maybe I'll post once every three or four months with some "exciting" personal news. Ha!
3] Settled or not, I'll be writing poetry like a madman in Cornwall from day one. It's my destiny. Being driven out of London, having nowhere to plug in a laptop, not being able to carry me guitar as well as a rucksack, my astrologer's prediction coming true. You dig? It's all destiny. / Needless to say, I have grand visions of becoming a poetry star. I'm not going to describe those visions to you because you already think I'm nuts.
All right?
Anyway ...
I walked to Richmond earlier, and walked back, along the river, like. Ten miles, in this heat. Uh.
'Why do you do it to yourself?'
I'm losing my fitness, Voice. I've hardly done any dumbbells this year ... injuries, you know? My Steve McQueen / Daniel Craig idea has gone out the window. 'Ha! Who's ever heard of a poet looking all cool like McQueen, the King of Cool??? You can let yourself go now.' No way, man! I'll get back to it.
I'll be the first King of Cool poet!
Anyway ...
Laters!
'Bye!'
