Thursday, 15 March 2012

1000 hits

thank god - my index finger is bleeding!

Wednesday, 7 March 2012

Trade

Oh there he is with his big glow on the big UK title, over there with the CEO of Nestlé sitting there all shiny bald heads & dandruffed Italian suits.
Fuck! Sidle over, er, sir - he knows me - we made a podcast once, it wasn't that great, the eyes are wary - potential time waster.
"Got 5 for a pod chief?" I ask.
"Er' yes, FT now, have you seen Jofrain, the press officer? He has the schedule ok?"
"Sure thing. Thanks," i say moving off into the pack of hacks standing around with their various devices, hackin...mostly a frumpily dressed buncha freaks who had little understanding of the heavy financial & strategic plays that were their common subjects. It was a fraud really.

Oh & at the end of the lawn the CNN piece with a board member talking about the convergence of food & pharma - that'd be phood - & the likely shareprice effect of a 5bn euro investment in a research institute that may inevitably churn out exactly zero products unless ENORME % points of the population can awake from a nutritional slumber & realise that humble ol food, or better foods, can keep them outta hospitals. & debt.

"Jofrain?"
"Er, ha, yes? Er, Keith, yes, what would you like?"
Gotta love the Swiss. The Swiss PR. Thick, black-framed, DKNY mild prescription glasses; moussed side-part; alabaster, moisturised, acned face; classic, dark grey english wool suit with a thick pin, Nestlé clipboard, pad, pen.
"Can I get 5 with Paul? Got 90 minutes to get a pod up..." Jofrain looks to his folder. "Mmmmm...schedule's loking quite full you know today Keith..." "I have two questions Jofrain...seriously...5 minutes max." I look pleading and desperate & try to throw a little rugged Han Solo-ness in there too, like, 'you can say no Jof but you know, & i know, & Paul knows, that everyone will benefit if we get this thing happening." Even if it's not really true & last time I missed crucial questions due to a lack of research. It's all about the sell. Innit?

Lamely i hold the Marantz podcast recorder above my head in my right hand, admiring its serious professional look. Jofrain smiles & glances at it too. "You have questions?" he asks. "There are many important journalists here today." Incredulous: "What & I'm not?"
Jofrain looks at his schedule again, adjusting his DKNYs a little. "Follow me." "Good lad," I mutter, following, suddenly, desperately, trying to narrow in on some questions that won't bore the CEO of the world's biggest food enterprise...



Sunday, 4 March 2012

#lovesng




donc…
shall we discuss elements
you & i
(& all our followers)
beats we found
(&shared on soundcloud twitter shareit dippity face
book spotify myspace google+             oh,
& the CIA)
                   ? shall we
      discuss hirst
           after fucking to grungejazz
       or laugh at brian sewel
          or the viscereal realists
   smoking in lost beds
                                    on lost blue sky sundays?
                                                                                            shall we?
        go down these bleunoir streets
               stuttering tweets
          sticky in jeans
      & apolitical Ts
          kidulting  free in south
     france western free
           time not seen?
                                                        shall we take these
      discuss these elements?
lusting forms
      in mountain passes
         solely dusk
                & moondusk
        velotude
         forming water conservation
                 with nature’s girls
       just there
          by that charming picturesque delightful rustic valley village fireflyorangeglowing in the eternal dusk of man
                                                  & woman
           let us go then you & i…
                                                        flipping back
       flipped back
    is it time, gentleman?
           to suck again
      take form against
         these elements?
reaching for android:
            #poetrystillmatters
    
              hooking up again
        buckling the compounds
     straps whipped to the stars
          bruising andromeda belts
                     blissful
                like elements
were
meant
        to
        be.                                                           some
                                                                        times