Monday, 14 April 2014

SEEN AND HEARD, SIGHT UNSEEN, SOUND AND VISION . . . . LIZZIE TURNS FOURTEEN, AS I NOW CONTEMPLATE MY FUTURE . . . . IT'S DEFINITELY UNWRITTEN, BRING IT ON UNIVERSAL POWER

THE STAR OF THE SHOW . . . . THE GREATEST THING I'VE EVER DONE
 LIZZIE GETTING JIGGY WITH IT WHILE GRANNY GETS ALL WINSTON ON US
 MY LITTLE HAIR FLICKING GESTICULATOR . . . . I DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS
 BIRTHDAY FINE DINING DESSERT . . . . THE LEAD UP TO THE CAKE

Friday, 11 April 2014

TWENTY FOUR HOURS FROM AN ULCER . . . . A MIXED GRAB BAG OF RANDOMNESS FROM THE LAST TWO DAYS . . . . STILL SELLING LIVER DAMAGE AND DEBAUCHERY . . . . ONWARD HO MOFO.

MY GRAIL WATCH ARRIVED . . . 1981 SEIKO 7549-7010 . . . SUCH A COOL BIT OF KIT
THE CASEBACK . . . ALL THE DETAILS . . . BATTERY CHANGE DATES . . . BIRTH MONTH
THE BALLISTICS FIRST SINGLE TOUR . . . PSYCHOBILLY ACT, SKA THEMED ARTWORK . . . WTF??
GRAINY MEMORIES OF TUESDAY NIGHT . . . THE DUDE AND THE DUDETTE'S GAFF . . . COOL AND GROOVY
TUESDAY'S PARADISE FROM THE BALCONY OF BROKEN DREAMS . . . SAFETY IN DISTANCE
MISS WEST HOLLYWOOD'S DESSERT DE JOUR . . . WHEN THOUGHTS TURN TO MUNCHIES
TUESDAY LATE NIGHT TELEVISION . . . AIRPORT ROAD MOTHERFUCKER . . . YOU CAN FOLLOW ME
RADIUSED WHEEL ARCHES ON A TRI SERIES . . . ONE OF THE UGLIEST BODY MODS EVER

Monday, 7 April 2014

LOAFING AROUND WAITING TO BE OFFICIALLY INFORMED OF MY REDUNDANCY . . . . FEELING ENERVATED, EXCITED AND NOT WORRIED IN THE FUCKING LEAST . . . . CLEARLY A SIGN THAT THE PATH AHEAD IS A GOOD ONE METHINKS . . . . A FEW UNRELATED PICTORIAL RAMBLINGS.

DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL . . . . LIZZIEDOCIOUS IN 2003 . . . . TIME FLIES WHEN YOU'RE A PARENT
SEIKO 'TUNA' DIVER . . . . WHEN I'M FREE DIVING TO THE BOTTOM OF MARIANAS TRENCH
PECTORAL VIEW . . . . THE SEIKO TSUNAMI, SYMBOLIC OF FIFTY YEARS OF DIVE WATCH BRILLIANCE
 SURFERS PARADISE 1981 . . . . OUTTA THE SURF AND FRESH OUTTA POMADE, WOCKABILLY WEBEL
 MY FIRST SEIKO DIVER AS WORN ON MY WRIST IN THE ABOVE PHOTO . . . . CAN'T KILL EM

Saturday, 5 April 2014

END OF A WORKING WEEK I'M PRETTY KEEN TO LEAVE BEHIND . . . . COME MONDAY I'LL LIKELY BE MADE REDUNDANT . . . . I'M TAKING IT AS A SIGN FROM THE UNIVERSE THAT MY DECADE IN THE EMPLOY OF THE STRAIGHTS IS ABOUT ALL I'VE GOT IN ME . . . . LOOKING FORWARD TO WHAT THE FUTURE MAY BRING . . . . ONE DOOR CLOSES AND ALL THAT, BLAH BLAH BLAH.

ASSORTED MOMENTS FROM THE LAST TWENTY FOUR HOURS . . . . THE PIECE DE RESISTANCE WAS GETTING MY LEG OVER THE PENIS MOBILE FOR THREE HOURS TONIGHT . . . . REGARDLESS OF WHAT MONDAY MIGHT BRING, ALL IS WELL IN THE WORLD . . . . SHIT COULD BE SO MUCH WORSE, YOU KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING . . . . FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS, PFFFT, I STILL GOT IT GOOD RELATIVELY SPEAKING.
 ALDANA . . . . COMING OUTTA THE TURN, ON THE PIN, LINED UP AND ONE HANDED, LEGEND
 THE COCKPIT OF THE VINO MOBILE . . . . MADE THE KESSEL RUN IN UNDER TWELVE PARSECS
 AT 12.20 LAST NIGHT THIS CAME ON THE BOX . . . . SO MUCH FOR AN EARLY NIGHT IN THE SACK
 PUT THIS OLD WARHORSE ON TODAY . . . . GOT IT NEW IN '93 . . . . SHOULDN'T EVEN BE ALIVE
 DASHBOARD DOUBLE ACT . . . . CHILDHOOD MEMORIES ALWAYS CLOSE AT HAND, MASCOT DUTY
 THE CABIN OF ROSCOE'S C10 . . . . PINEAPPLE POPSICLE, PULL THE PIN AND LOB AT NEAREST IDIOT
 JOHNNO'S '04 Z1000 . . . . KWAKA SURE GOT THEIR VALUE OUTTA THE GPz MOTOR CONCEPT
 BLING TO THE MAX . . . . I DON'T GET THE CVO CAPER, FACTORY CUSTOM, EXPLAIN THAT TO ME
 UNDOUBTEDLY ONE OF MY MOST LOVED BITS . . . . PATINA, PATINA, PATINA, FTW MOFO
 HALFWAY COFFEE STOP TONIGHT AT THE GOLDEN ARCHES . . . . LIGHT ONE UP AND REFLECT
THE GOODNESS OF THE GOODSON . . . . HAND MADE, SAND CAST GLORY . . . . FINTASTIC 
ABOUT TO LOSE THE SILLY FORWARDS AND INSTALL THE MIDS AND SPEED MERCHANT PEGS

Monday, 31 March 2014

THE BOSSANOVA KIDS "DANCETRAIN" . . . . MY SECOND BAND CIRCA 1987 COVERING MY FIRST BAND'S FIRST SINGLE . . . . NO ELECTRONIC DRUMS HERE FOLKS . . . . WE WERE ONCE DESCRIBED IN A MUSIC MAGAZINE AS 'ELVIS MEETS THE MC5' . . . . SHIT, I'LL TAKE THAT ONE THANKS.

WE WERE OFTEN CALLED 'THREE WOGS AND A DOG', THE GUITARIST, MARIO SPINA, WAS ITALIAN, THE DRUMMER, JOHNNY HIPPOCRATES, WAS GREEK AND THE BASS PLAYER, TERRY STEPHENS, OF EGYPTIAN DESCENT . . . . MARIO DIED OF A BRAIN TUMOUR ON CHRISTMAS DAY NINE YEARS AGO, EVERY WEEK IN THE STUDIO TERRY AND I DO OUR MUSICAL THING WITH MARS' ASHES SITTING IN AN URN ON TOP OF THE EFFECTS RACK . . . . IT'S A SPECIAL AND BEAUTIFUL THING. 

I DON'T MIND LOSING OR FAILING, ESPECIALLY OF MY OWN VOLITION . . . . HOWEVER, I DETEST HAVING MY SHIT FUCKED UP BY SOMEBODY ELSE . . . . OR, WORSE, DOING NOTHING TO STOP IT HAPPENING . . . . THAT'S WHAT I DID IN MY FIRST BAND, I LET SOMEONE ELSE TAKE THE WHEEL.

Notice anything odd about the photo, not including my hyperactive sweat glands, stacked quiff and effete hand gesture, nor is it my lucky towel, or the Peavey bass rig lying on its side, no, its's the fucking ridiculous Simmons electronic drum kit wasting space behind me . . . . I mean, as if drummers aren't bad enough in their own right, they decide sometimes to have a half mind of their own and actually do something without being told to or seeking group approval first, under any set of normal circumstances, things they never do . . . . as 'The Ballistics' we were a psychobilly/rockabilly/punk hybrid act, sweaty, loud, ugly and thoroughly flat out, we were braining it, getting the best support gigs, headlining to full houses, touring the country, free piss, road crew, PA and truck on permanent hire, all the gold we could eat, it was post punk, alternate rock heaven . . . . the last thing we needed or deserved was a hair brained plan by our chief noisemaker and non-metronome, to go out and drop three fucking grand of the band's money on a dinky idiot syndrum kit, but, being a drummer by name and nature, he did, and, I let it happen. I should've realised there and then that the entire shitfight was doomed to plummet into the ground like the Pan Am jumbo over Lockerbie . . . . what I should have done was say, 'hey, Cam, this is my fucking band and we're playing rockabilly not doing Ultravox covers, you either take that ridiculous collection of Tupperware back to the supermarket or you're looking for another gig', but I didn't, and the rest is just so much piss and wind . . . . not that I'm bitter and twisted about it . . . . much . . . . I mean, 1983 was a long time ago and I'm over it . . . . sort of.

A PICKUP TRUCK LOAD OF COOL FOR THE MONDAY BLUES . . . . THIS PAIR JUST TURNED UP AT ROSCOE'S PLACE OF EMPLOY, STRAIGHT OFF THE BOAT . . . . C10 OVERLOAD, PICK IT UP !!!

IT'S EVERY MAN'S BIRTHRIGHT TO OWN A PICKUP TRUCK ONCE IN HIS LIFE . . . . C'MON BUBBA !!!