“I was watching a documentary on A&E last night about these guys who go whacko and shoot up the office where they work, and I was thinking they never mention the fact that one of the main causes is the fact that most people are bored with their job, and their bosses are petty tyrants, and they hate every hour they spend there. They never talk about that side. It’s always, ‘what’s wrong with their genes?'” – Robert Anton Wilson
From an interview with Boyd Rice by Self-Titled:
ST: Why have most people not been able to make it past six months with you?
BR: When you’re somewhat of a public figure, people think they know what you’re into, and they try to cater everything to that. And they can keep up that facade for six months, but after six months–almost to the day–they act like the complete opposite. It’s like what you see is what you get. I’m not going to change for anyone…Don’t date a guy who’s always drinking 24/7, then suddenly say ‘I think you drink too much’ after six months…It’s not too much if it helps you deal with the world. I’m not on Klonopin, you know? I’ve love to be on Klonopin.
ST: Why aren’t you then?
BR: I will be soon, after I’m married. I used to talk to John Balance of Coil, and early on, he said his situation with drinking and drugs is this Arthur Rimbaud-like detachment of the senses. And the last time I talked to him, he said, ‘Truthfully Boyd, I hate this world so much that if I weren’t drinking non-stop, I would not be able to deal with it.’ I thought, ‘Okay, I dig that.’
Blake: Of course sometimes I just come here and cry a great deal remembering everything.
Tom: Oh I’m sorry to hear that.
Blake: Oh no, no… in a good way. (nervously chuckles) I-I’ve had some lovely cries. (he smiles)
I’d heartily recommend Black Pond (2011) for anyone who likes quirky, dark, philosophical, British comedy.
d. Tom Kingsley / Will Sharpe
str. Chris Langham, Simon Amstell, Amanda Hadingue, Colin Hurley
Man (in cubicle): Hello?
Me (at urinal): –
Man: Hello? Guy, can you hear me?
Me (reluctantly): Hi?
Man: Have you got the time please?
Me: Yeah, it’s twenty past ten.
Man: Oh right. I’m waiting for the Essex train.
Me: Are you ok in there?
Man: Yeah, yeah I’m fine I’m just waiting for the Essex train. Are you a young guy?
Man: Are you a young guy? How old are you?
Me: No, I’m forty!
Man: That’s a bit old.
Me: Tell me about it.
Man: Have you just come from work?
Me (lying): Yeah.
Man: I’m waiting for the Essex train.
Me: Ok, i think it’s coming soon. Is that the Stortford one?
Man: Yeah. Have you got a mrs?
Man: What’s she like?
Me: She’s great… Listen, good luck yeah, but I’m off now.
Man: Guy! Hang on, don’t go…
(I hid behind a sign until the train came)
I saw a tower
It laughed me into submission
But that’s ok
I found I could still smile
I was in a tower
It talked me into submission
But that’s ok
I found I could still smile
I was locked in a tower
I questioned my submission
It was too late
They were rounding up my friends and family
I was brought from the tower
I smiled at the block
My legs wanted to give way
All I am is my love
I stood there leaking in and out of my head. Apparently if we’d never gone to war in Iraq in the first place then the terrible situation with Islamic State right now wouldn’t be happening. Blair/Sadham/WMD it’ll never go away. Apparently if the west could just stop interfering, that’s the only way they’d ever ‘win’ the war on terrorism, said the man opposite me in the pub. The television in the corner was playing an advert from the RSPCA showing emaciated and badly treated cats and dogs. Not for the first time I thought, how are we expected to live? My fingers smelled of vomit.
“[My wife] liked to collect old encyclopedias from second-hand bookstores, and at one point we had eight of them. When I wrote my first historical novel—back in 1980, before I was online—I used them often as a research tool. Every time I wanted to look up a historical detail I’d look it up in 3 or 4 encyclopaedias and always there’d be disagreement. For instance, how old was Mozart when he wrote his first symphony? Either 7 or 8 depending on which encyclopaedia you look in. How tall was the Bastille? 90 feet high or 100 feet or 120 feet according to three different encyclopaedias I consulted. This is what provoked me to formulate Wilson’s 22nd Law: ‘Certitude belongs exclusively to those who only own one encyclopedia.’ “–Robert Anton Wilson
Alas, I was sent the wrong details for the jump. 🙁 Arrived 8am Nottingham with wife and kids for short bit of training and then jump… Found I had actually been booked on the correct course, but it involved a whole day of training followed by jumping the following morning.
Couldn’t expect kids to stay at airfield all day with nothing to do, then drive 2hr15mins back down the A1 only to get up at 5am again and drive back again in the morning. Tried a lot of alternative logistic but alas nothing held. Only option was to cancel and re-book. 🙁
It was a good test of my attempts to be more laid back and have more of a positive mental attitude! When I found out I couldn’t jump I was bitterly disappointed and frustrated, but fortunately managed to dealt with it pretty well. Drove all the way back down the A1 home, worked on a new song in Cubase (melodramatically titled Failure To Reach the Skies), then headed down to the park/funfair with family and then on to a lovely dinner in The Old Barge. Glad I managed to recover the day rather than just going home and sulking in bed the rest of the weekend! I tell myself it wouldn’t be a challenge if it was easy, and other platitudes!
Now scheduled to jump August 2nd, (weather/life permitting).
I am now in the final few days of my 30s! I don’t like being the centre of attention at parties and things, so starting last year I decided to maybe try and celebrate each remaining birthday with some kind of personal challenge. Last year, for my 39th birthday, was my attempt to walk The Pennine Way… this year I’m going to attempt a parachute jump. Despite not being very good with heights I did a bungee jump in my early 20s. I was so terrified I begged the man at the top to push me out. He refused, counted down and then shouted BUNGEE!! at me and I half stumbled, half fell out of the box and screamed all the way down. After the first initial drop though, came the soaring back upwards which felt amazing like flying. When I finished I was totally thrilled and wanted to do it again as soon as possible.
With the passing of days though I remembered how terrified I’d been beforehand and realised I could never put myself through it again.
Doing a parachute jump at some point has always been at the back of my mind (a long with a lot of other things), but when I found out that once over the age of 40, you need to get a doctors letter to be allowed to jump, I decided to try and jump before my 40th birthday. I am hoping to have maringally more dignity than for my bungee jump!
It’s all booked and paid for, for tomorrow, in Nottingham.
I’m a bit funny about the thought of being strapped to a stranger so have elected not to go for a tandem jump… instead going to jump solo as a ‘static line jump’ which means the chute is automatically deployed so I can um safely pass out if necessary.
Anyone interested in sponsoring me (in aid of the Alzheimer’s Society) pls head over to: https://www.justgiving.com/Max-Clarkson
Any donations gratefully received!
(how much time off is a broken leg?)