You’re F**King Joking Me?

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What’s Going On? – Marvin Gaye


So the other day I got this wonderful letter in the post from a blogaruu reader which I thought I would reply to…

‘Howdy,

Just wanted to say great hair! Also. What have you been up to lately?

Goodbye for now,

Murk Waters.’

Howdy yourself, Murk Waters, great to hear from you. Thanks for the hair compliment too, very kind. I’m sure you’ve a fine flowing fro yourself as well. Actually, did I tell you I recently got a haircut? Here’s a photo some clown took of it… Continue Reading »

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Santa Touched Me. Felt. Liked. Christmas!

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If It Wasn’t For You – Various Cruelties


Dark. Dreary. Drab. Depressing. Dire. Dismal. Doleful. Dreadful. Downer. Dose. Big bulbous buckets of gushing water. Tut. The week before Christmas the rain held a reign of terror over L.A. Brutal. In every way. I know. But it did. People can’t cope. Simply melt away at the sight of rain. Panic kicks in. Folk freak out. Mighty fun really. Particularly the week before Christmas. The week when the fun and anticipation is meant to be kicking in. The week when the Christmas spirit is mean’t to be freaking you out! In a good way. Instead. Just surrounded by wet moaning non-believers (in Christmas). Kind of weird too seeing as Christmas is full on advertised everywhere. TV non-stop. Every show has a Christmas special. Every shop has a Christmas sale. Every person… Doesn’t really give a hoot aboot it. Almost everyone anyways. Almost all Americans at least. Europeans were believers. Just surrounded by non. Asked an American buddy if he was looking forward to his Christmas dinner…¬†Dinner? I’ll eat dinner when I’m hungry I guess. A burger or something? I don’t know. What do you mean? Oh Jesus. Christmas buzz, in full swing! Closest it felt to being like Christmas in any way was when I accidentally knocked over the Christmas tree in the foyer of my building. Lugging in DJ gear out of the rain. Wet shoes. Wet leaf. Wet floor. Slip. Catch. Bag. Balls. Fall. Tree. Fall. Catch. Ish. Christmas balls. Everywhere. Picked it up and danced on as quick as a can. And you know how quick cans can dance! No harm done. Just my composure. Shhh. And so this was Christmas… ? Continue Reading »

Drunk. Sober. Write? Wrong.

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Started at five. Moved onto six. Broke through the seven. Now dancing past eight. My night owl is soaring at the moment. Sleeping times are on their head. Night is now day. At least the book is being churned out. Churn on. Cave-like lifestyle. Living in and running around my head.¬†Which I’ve realised has resulted in me sporadically zipping between two different kind of moods. Frustrated. Pumped. At times annoyed. Other times delighted. Over and over. Finally the penny dropped. Depending on the event or story or whatever I’m re-writing about, that emotion builds up and kicks in, inside my head. Which makes writing any good story a great laugh to do. And makes me highly frustrated after writing a frustrating story. Strangely, I am now living vicariously, through, my, self? Continue Reading »

Transformer

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We’ve all been there before. You go out, have a few drinks, meet a truck, its dark in the club, the truck looks well. Then you wake up the next morning, paint and make-up scrawled all over the place, fake tan all over your sheets, rust everywhere, this was not the same Love Truck as last night. The Bucket in full effect.The Bucket

Here are a few photos of my street and area I live in too, Sunset…