This is what I do. Living on the estate I was born in, my lungs filling up with filth. I thought the army would save me but when I was discharged I went missing without the disicipline. I ended up on my dad's sofa, beating up on myself, on him, I hit him. He hit me back, I let him. I didn't feel a thing. I didn't feel a thing.
Young, white, male working class blues. Trapped in a life where if you can't work hard enough because you don't want to or you just can't bring yourself to break your back you stay trapped. You make just enough to live by doing 40 hours to go out of a weekend and come back with a bit of change before it all starts again. Enough to drive a man to drink.
Mark phoned me yesterday and told me that tonight's show at Kenneth Alan Taylor's house is full of 60 plus people who work in the industry I'm trying to shoehorn my way in to, including Amanda Holden. Not that I'm trying to shoehorn my way into her...heh...
I'm involved in an interesting discussion about memo boards that I'd like you to have a look at, have a good weekend.