Sunshine

Word to your sunny Tuesdays. It seems that the weather has had a momentary mental lapse, and forgot to give England her usual dose of soggy weekend rain. And I think I speak for most of the country when I say that it's FUCKING BRILLIANT. I don't care if you are allegic to sunlight, what a beautiful weekend it has been.

Sadly I didn't manage to make it to a beach. I wandered as far as the beer fridge and the park and that was all, but I enjoyed myself immensely nonetheless. After all we have to make the most of it here; the bulbous clouds are already champing at their vaporous bits in precipatable anticipation. Don't blame them, they've got an average rainfall quota to fulfill.

Well apart from all the meteorological excitement this weekend, it's been a very productive one too. The website, thankfully, is on it's way at last, and in it's final stages once more. So hopefully, if the gods are with me, maybe, just maybe (hold breath) it may be up by the middle of July..... Maybe.

In other news, I finally stopped laughing after finding out what a falcon punch was (thank you Captain Falcon) and if there are any untimely pregnancies hereabouts you can rest assured I will end them in the appropriate manner. You can find all you want to know here:
http://encyclopediadramatica.com/Falcon_Punch
See also, 'How to falcon punch...'

And since you've all been so patient, I can now reveal (hold breath once more) that I am fully into the start of the next book in the chilly Emaneska trilogy, 'Pale Kings'. But alas I'm afraid I cannot reveal too much more, because you haven't read the first one. Just be happy in the knowledge that there's MORE.

Peace, suntans, and overpriced Magnums,

Ben

Gig Limbo = Gimbo

It feels a little disconnected in the bowels of Clapham. I am in my car, stationary, expectant, waiting. I'm scanning through the frequencies to try and find a station that doesn't play bangra. No offense intended, it's just not my cup of tea. I settle for a station playing drab electro instead and stare at the traffic jam at the end of the street. The smell of kebab wafts through my dashboard.

This is gig limbo: the vacuous period of nothing before going onstage. And oh my does it grind, passing by with the speed of a drugged-up slug. So far we've turned up, on time of course, parked appropriately, shook many hands with many bands, and stood around. Now the wait begins, and no matter what venue, soundcheck always moves at glacial pace. Piece by glimmering piece the drumkit slowly seeps into the room, followed by flight cases and assorted instruments and their owners. This is also the weighing-up period, when people sneak glimpses of equipment and guage eachother, trying to decide if the other bands are twats or if they're socially acceptable, though no one will admit it. We're all ever so polite about it. Then, while the soundman shuffles around the desk and blasts the PA with his snatches of his eclectic playlist, the bands explore the venue and disperse into the surrounding alleyways and highstreets.

Needless to say, fuss suitably dispensed with and customary wandering completed, I have ended up in my car, listening to my audibly beige electronica. Soon I will be summoned for the use of my bass amp. The smell of kebab still taunts me from across the road.

But, despite the waiting and the guaging, the damp and acoustics akin to that of a cave, I can feel it stirring, that little bit of excitement I get before every gig, no matter how important it is or wherever I am. It all boils down to one thing: I can't wait to get on stage and play. And after all that's why we're all here isn't it, like addicts chasing the next musical high.

Early risings

I am not a morning person. By any stretch of the imagination. I think of myself more as a nocturnal early-riser who dabbles in daylight. So, being forced to get up and work with the fine public at 5.30am this morning was, and is still, not my idea of fun.

Here I am then, back at the infernal kiosk, chairless and pretending to be cheerful. What a morning it has been. (There was, however, an amusing pigeon orgy/fight/wrestle which made me chuckle). I can't complain though, I don't have it as bad as some, and I'm learning to get up earlier in the process! (Which apparently is a good thing).

The other good thing about this morning is that for some reason I found time to scribble, and scribble I did, and seeing as I promised you lot some news then I might as well tell you that I've started a newish book idea that I might try and fit in somewhere amongst the other projects. It's always good to scribble, and it's always fun writing a fairytale. Which this is turning out to be. And as fairytales always write themselves you cab expect a preliminary excerpt soonish; it'd be good to have a bit of feedback.

And today is voting day at long last! Don't forget, or Clegg will haunt you and your children, and your children's children, and....

Peace and voting aplenty,

Ben as usual

Saturday Saturday

At the moment I am serving as a treadmill and climbing frame for a cat. A small cat mind you, but one with very sharp and very needle-like claws. I think it's because I had tuna earlier, or maybe I'm emitting a strange feline energy.

Today's been really good, and believe it or not, and ready yourselves for this bombshell of goodness, I have started the first chapter of the second book in the trilogy! Took me a little by surprise I must say, because I had said to myself, and many others had said to me, that I should have a short break before starting anything else. Unfortunately for me, taking a little break meant chilling at my laptop, and that meant perusing a few ideas, which meant I might have seen the plan for the second book nestled in between a few file folders, aaaaaand that might have led to sitting down for a day or so and maaaaaybe writing about 4000 words of the new chapter. Can't deny it though, I'm a little excited by the prospect of taking Farden and the story even further, and if I don't say so myself, it's going. Rather. Well.

In other knew I have a gig tonight, which brings me back to why I'm being trampled by a furry beast. Deadlight are playing Epsom tonight in a teency little bar/club affair called the Native Tongue (which, incidently, is firmly ensconced in an alcove between Halifax bank and a Turkish body art shoppe). So come on down if you're around! Stay tuned.

Laters,

Ben