UP BEFORE DOWN:

Get up before sunrise to beat the rush, the influx of questions.
“Did you sleep well?”
“How are you feeling?”
“Are you all right?”
“Whats wrong?”
If I can get to the bathroom & lock the door before anyone sees me
there’s a good chance, that once I’ve showered & set the head
to ‘positive’ I’ll step back out into the world like a new pin.
Any questions before I enter the molecular transformer are too much,
too soon & do they really need to be asked that early?
What about a simple un-intrusive,

“Hey” ?

(K)

LUNA! LUNA! LUNA!:

Went walking in the fields last night by the light of
Super-moon. This stupid phone that thinks it’s a camera
can’t see a Moon without turning it into a magical twinkling
cartoon thing, but you get the drift – it was bright (right?).
Planned to watch the eclipse & set an alarm but turned it off.
The body (as ever) had different plans & set it’s own alarm,
so I was up walking in the dark as our shadow crossed out
the Moon. I’m fried from the inside, but a body is an amazing
thing don’t you think? It can dance flat out at 1:00am
for 90 minutes straight when a head has nothing left to give.

(K)

HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY!:

Changing trains from Leeds to Essex, sustained on water, wraps &
chocolate & the souldfood of sunlit fields yet to feel the cut of
the plough. Train travel is time between time, to let the head
drift, look, listen, write, do nothing if the mood feels right,
it’s the gift of meditative space in an era of 24/7 headlong rush
into work-aholic addiction. The daily guilt-trip from unanswered
emails, unreturned calls & the torrent of things-to-do in order to
fit the fictitious requirements of an adult suckered in by the
demands of 21st century bullshit. What happened to staring out
the window? What happened to sitting quietly, listening, hearing,
letting the thoughts stop racing & find their own direction,
unfettered by the nonsense’s of this ludicrous culture we
allow to eat us alive, imprison us, suck the joy out of us.
When do we get let out to play, let out on parole for good
behaviour? I got sober to be happy.

(K)

NORTHERNER:

Walking night streets up in Leeds, where are all the people?
It’s Friday night, bars & restaurants, red ropes & security
in heavy weather warmers greet the boys in shirt sleeves &
weekend girls in open back dresses. We follow smells of curry
with hope until it runs out, then pick up another, but nothing.
It gets late, we grab a pizza from a place where they’re already
stacking tables, playing old school house to no one. A woman walks
a ferret on a leash up a side street as women tumble out of pubs
laughing at the sight & stealing pictures for their instagram
accounts.

(K)

IN THE POCKET:

Met Tony Buck from the Necks on the streets of East London
last night, unmistakeable in his trademark leathers & spotted
shirt beneath a sky of exploding hair. The fire in his eyes
burned bright letting me know the groove is still alive.
We talked about the music of roads, of underscored journeys
& the song of bridges. We talked fast & deep then walked
through the night back to Liverpool street, where I boarded
a train home to Essex & he went back to the Barbican where
The Necks & Leo Abrahams are performing Brother Eno’s
‘Discrete Music’ on Saturday night. Next stop, Winter in Berlin.

(K)

RADIO POETICS:

The farmer’s finished cutting dirty grooves. The plough put away
for another year. Hedgerows trimmed for Winter thrill my eyes,
woken by the heavy fall of rain outside. Getting used to the
dark-light, carrying something waterproof & light for afternoon
in the Emerald City. I’m not looking for the Wizard or a miracle,
just patience to stay the course, riding shotgun for the tribe as
it stumbles on the road to healing. Every day I get signs & gifts.
A robin on the gate post, a magpie dancing in the road,
a film maker arrived on a random mission builds a bridge across
a void of silence. In the shower this morning, the radio says,

“As you raise you head from your spotless pillow”

Another gift & received with gratitude.

Getting happy to The SoulJazz Orchestra’s ‘Resistance’

(K)

HAPPY AS A PIG-IN:

Ploughman cuts the earth into dirty vinyl grooves, tracked by
the static of low flying crows scribbling jagged black holes in
the wind.
Essex got it’s sunhead on, I’m feeling elated. Time to take the
eyes out for a ride behind the wheel of a low-ket automobile.
Listening to the soundscapes of MURAL’s ‘Tempo’

(K)

UPDATE-ABLE FRIEND:

Up before sunrise, reading, researching how to do the right thing.
Mailing, reaching out, connecting.
There’s a beautiful light sliding over the horizon, Blues, become
Purples, Reds become mustard Yellows. I lean out the window
trying to capture them, mail them to Los Angeles. Turns out the
phone isn’t camera enough to capture the magic of the moment,
though it fakes being my friend it can’t even record what a cheap
plastic film 35mm could back in the 90’s. Looks nice, but too fake
to do real life justice.

(K)

HATMANDO:

Switching hats like a plate spinner on a Sunday night
variety show. The rain comes & goes, the sun makes an
appearance then leaves, the washing goes out, then comes
back in. The one constant through all this is the Kettle.
Water & electricity, the building blocks of life.
Somewhere between recording guitars for UW, making marks
on cardboard & editing text found on the street I received
a copy of ‘Drawing Ambiguity’ containing the chapter I
contributed on working processes. It covers the whole range
of medium, word gathering, mark capturing & translations
into drawings, paintings & lyrics. It describes journey mapping
across cities, the sounds of architecture & the information
transmitted by buildings & the movement of people between them.
It’s the most in depth description of my working processes
to be published so far & includes photographs & drawings
to accompany the text. It conclude by laying out directions
for a series of new projects currently in process.
Now, get the kettle filled, I feel a hat coming on.

(K)

WHAT’S THE STORY?:

A car parked in a lay-by at night on an unlit country lane,
caught in the headlights. A pair of muddy boots placed neatly
outside the drivers door.

(K)