Cross Walk of Oblivion.

So we stopped doing the radio show and from the airwaves we disappeared.

My all too trusting voice went from beaming through a 300000 brains on two different frequencies to gracing only the increasingly uncomfortable denizens of my living room.

to tell you the truth, I haven't left the house in months.

Every week I fold all my dirty laundry into tight little packages and post them through my down stairs neighbours front door. I have started a compost heap in the corner of my kitchen. I called the phone company and told them to go fuck themselves but ended up getting a 12 month extension on my broadband package.

In many ways I have have all that I need. though I am starting to run out of clothes.

Luckily I have enough money to buy all the food I can eat from reputable on-line retailer 'HIPPO' 
They are a Yugoslavian delivery only store, that brands it's self as a kind of down market version of Aldi.
Among other things, they sell consumer products looted from Sub-Saharan Africa by tribes of armed horsemen.

as a result I'm eating a lot of Teff. It's organic and given that it's stolen at gun point it's a lot cheaper than the fair trade stuff. But seriously the gradualy wearing down of my rear molars is definitely preferable to the almost certain destruction that would come to me if I were to step outside my front door and venture onto the streets of Stokes Croft.

It's not that I am afraid. I have given up being afraid. It's more that I am frightened. Frightened of what I know. More frightened of what I don't know. The terrible secret that lurks behind every 32 year old man-child whose clothes probably looked good on them in 2003. They walk together in perfect unison as if not entirely human.

I watch them from my window.  They watch me back. We have reached an impasse but I am still searching for a compromise.

Last night I put up a little sign that simply read... "I just didn't have time to do the damn show every damn week"

They wrote one back that simply said.
"but you told us you loved us..."

I wept. because I still do. But I also want to play X-Com and have straight-sex with my wife (though not always both at the same time).

I wept for the lost son that was the City of Bristol and in particular that weird little bit of it between the killing fields of Redland, the poppy fields of Montpelier and the Academic Fields of Sociological Discourse, Experimentation and study that is St Paul's.

I wept for the Croft. a bar now closed that symbolised the garage band dream of Bristol, The dizziy heights of that beer soaked back room floor where one person danced to all the songs but most people just wiggled a bit during the last one.

Where will Big Jeff dance now? (Old Market, maybe?)

The answer is Everywhere.  Everywhere he can among the faceless nameless troops of the Half-Discovered Self Awareness Army. Soldiers uniformed in filthy Khaki, old enough to have cemented an identity but prevented from completing the job by cannabis narcosis and an invasive multi-media advertising campaign orchestrated by a cadre of clean cut graphic-design débutantes, hell bent on making the world feel ill at ease. Thinking globaly, acting selfishly... These are the true social elite.

Five years from now one of them will run for mayor. She will become the mayor of 26hr a day Party Town. they will worship her...  The party Mayor. Princess of the Croft. She will dress like Adam Ant crossed with a lime green glitter bomb. She will bring us Eurovision. She will drink champagne, and not even notice the salty taste of sweat and tears encrusted on the rim of the glass. On the eve of her victory...claiming it to be a meeting of minds... she will not think twice of falling into bed with her campaign manager.

And when we are done, after the incomprehensible small talk is over, the votes will be counted and she will have won, and she will carry me through the city, and I will finally be protected for She will pull-in her arms and bare her teeth! and  from her shining back, sword in hand, I will shout down to the adoring public... look look, you can't touch me now boy's I'm riding a fucking T Rex!

Until then I'm not going outside.

The point is. We'll be back soon with a new show. 
in case you haven't guessed already, it's going to be about computer games.