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The Flying Boy

I recently completed writing a new novel. The title of the book is ‘Skin and Bones’ . More news on that soon, but in the meantime here is an update on a major work-in-progress.

It’s a book with the working title of ‘The Flying Boy’. The title refers to a recurring dream I used to have when I as a boy, probably no more than eight or nine years old, possibly younger.

The dream involved me, flying along the street where I lived at rooftop height. I think it influenced me a lot, in fact I am influenced a lot by the recurring dreams of my childhood. There were a lot of them.

I already wrote a book based on the one about The Three Bears and much of my other thoughts about what the universe is, how time works, reincarnation, spirituality, morality and so on, originate in my childhood dreams.

There will be more info about The Flying Boy in future I’m sure and one day the book will be published. Don’t expect a ‘normal’ novel-like thing, but it is a novel. In the meantime, here’s an extract from the work-in-progress.

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Branches and Sun reflected in a bin full of rainwater

cropped

Original Photo

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Ramble – Podcast

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It’s a collage

It’s a collage, that’s what it is, it’s a coll-fucking-age

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writer or painter?

if I don’t paint I can’t write, in fact if I don’t paint I lose the plot . . . it takes a while, months, sometimes longer, but here it comes again . . . sorry, got to go and paint . . . if anything decent comes out of my forthcoming painting session I’ll post it here, you’ll be the first to know . . . back in a bit . . .  . . . it’s later . . . well, that didn’t go very far, there was a fair bit of tidying up and sorting out paints and brushes and canvases, not to mention collecting all the other stuff that had accumulated in the shed and putting it out of the way . . . then it was too hot to paint in there so very little got done (painting-wise) . . . then there was cooking and generally mooching about and just being unfocused . . . and now . . . here’s the result . . .

so, writer or painter then?

neither I suppose, not today anyway

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Random Words of Today Podcast

Random Words of Today

*****

and while we’re at it, this is another little random podcast from the other day

it’s called RE: Tories Left Right etc.

*****

and yet another recoded just an hour or so ago

this one is Art Light Love Universe

*****

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Damn Ants

An extract from ‘To Me’

Damn Ants

June 10th, 2006

I had one of those writerly moments earlier; you know, when you have a brilliant idea for a piece of writing; something clever and insightful, something entertaining and wise, something beautiful and exciting, and all encapsulated in the same simple concept.

The words blossomed in my head, metaphors leapt about like lemurs and stunning similes smiled at me.

Right, I thought, I’m going to blog this. This’ll have ‘em dancing on their keyboards – now how do I begin? Ah yes – fantastic, that opening sentence will slay them, and then I’ll say that, and then I’ll bring that in and then I’ll end it like that – wow.

So, I hopped out of the armchair and skipped jauntily over to the laptop.

I’ll put the kettle on, I thought. Now where’s that box of cheating chai, and I’m sure there are some of those melt-in-the-mouth chocolate coated ginger biscuits left in the cupboard.

Damn ants, you only need a grain of sugar to escape from the spoon and they’re all over the place like an army of Eng-er-land supporters on speed. Better clean up a bit.

Right here we go . . . .

Um, er, what was I going to say?

Damn ants.

 

***

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Art Exhibition – Llanover Hall and Behind the Tele

Here’s a photo of my painting Autumn Show, on the wall in Llanover Hall, Cardiff for their 50th anniversary exhibition .

Available to purchase at the special price of £450 until July 26th 2019

Autumn Show – 2016 – acrylic on canvas – 1200mm x 1000mm

and here’s a very different painting on the same size canvas – who is it hiding behind the tele?

Namaste – 2018 – acrylic on canvas – 1200mm x 1000mm

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some poetry work-in-progress – podcast

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about Busted and Crime and Coffee etc.mp3

just another rambling podcast partly about the book launch of Busted the other day

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Busted – new novel coming soon

‘Busted’ is a story about a struggling businessman and his family who get involved with some serious criminals. Set in the large coastal town of Elchurch in the 1990’s Busted is a straightforward story and a satisfying read.

I actually wrote this story in the 1990’s but basically shoved it in a drawer (well on various data backup devices). Then, recently, because I’m late finishing ‘Beats’, the second in the Bums, Beats and Bones trilogy of stories featuring Detective Inspector Frank Lee, I dug ‘Busted’ out and decided to publish it, come what may.

To be honest I’m still not sure it’s wise to publish it, but what the hell that’s what’s happening at the end of May / beginning of June 2019. That gives me a couple of weeks to do some serious proofreading and copy-editing.

Anyway, more info soon. In the meantime here’s an idea for the cover.

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Me and some of my mates

Me and some of my mates



		
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2 Old Heads at The Apothecary Cardiff

I don’t really know how it got to this but in eleven days time on April 3rd I am doing a sort of gig. Poster below.

It’s a very small venue but an interesting one.

here’s the event link on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/events/317730898881281/

Some of my paintings will be on display and for sale in the week leading up to the event.

Here they are:

Mozaic-B – Acrylic on canvas. 16″ x 12″ Framed and ready to hang £160
Mozaic-A – Acrylic on canvas. 16″ x 12″ Framed and ready to hang £160
Oranges and Lemons – Acrylic on canvas. 16″ x 12″ Framed and ready to hang £150
Earth and Sky – Acrylic on canvas. 16″ x 12″  Framed and ready to hang £120

Also on show but not for sale (high offers may be considered)

Cefncaeau View – Oils on canvas. 30″ x 24″
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Old Heads Podcast – Welsh and fish and other stuff

Old Heads Podcast February 2019

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Okey Dokey

Don’t ask . . . . . .

Here’s some sort-of abstract works instead

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The Imaginary Man

Excerpt from Work in Progress Novel “The Flying Boy”

Also a version in the Novel “To Me”

You used to think you were especially gifted at school – this is because in your immediate circle of family and friends you were tagged as the brightest and cleverest. It was never true, but you suppose you were usually just about quick enough to figure out almost anything, and if you couldn’t figure it out, you’d put it in a box marked ‘later’ – it wasn’t that you couldn’t solve it, it just wasn’t the right time.

You can’t remember how many of those ‘later’ issues you revisited and solved, or how many sunk to the dark bottom of that box and are still there now, silting up the foundations of your being. You’ve never found life easy but it thrills you to be alive. It scares you silly too.

And so, you see, you have as much right as any one of those greats to tell your story in your way. You won’t promise an easy read, and you may not like many of the characters that feature, or many of the characteristics displayed by our man in the middle – the main protagonist – you!

The only thing you will guarantee is that this will only be about the truth. It will be completely true. You guarantee that.

It was a dampish, coldish, Saturday in October when it all began – this looking back, and the looking forward, and the imagination. The imaginary man.

Yes, The Imaginary Man – that’s you, that’s who you are. You are the original imaginary man. If someone said to you: who are you? You’d probably shrug. But if instead they asked you a series of questions such as: ‘how old are you?’, ‘what is your name?’, ‘are you male or female?’, that sort of thing, then you would already know the answers, and from those answers it could easily be deduced that you identify as a man, born in the middle of the twentieth century, now living in the twenty-first and so on.

So, you do have an identity – a strong identity, the only identity you have ever known and probably will ever know. So, get this – you are fucking important. You are as important as the fucking Queen. You are as important as the Pope, the fucking Pope. You’re not sure about people like the Buddha, or Jesus, or Muhammad, or Guru Nanak, or Krishna, or any other ancient or current inspiration for a religion – or some spiritual leader with a direct connection to the idea of God – like a conduit to the eternal love. No, You’re not sure about them; they may not even be or have been human beings in the same way as the rest of us, they may be or have been like angels or messiahs or prophets or something that operate on a different plane than human existence.

But you’re just as fucking important as any of your other ponces or plebs, and of course to yourself, you are the most important. Though you don’t need anyone else to put you down; you’re an expert at putting your-fucking-self down.

The only reason you’re writing this by the way is to draw a line between that old sucker you and to kickstart the new wiser tougher you.

So where do you begin?

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Interjection

(Interjection on Wednesday November 18th 2015 – as I’m typing this into a Word document ready to be copied into the book that this will end up in. The interjection is this – is it possible that an intelligent person could practise a skill – say, like writing, for decades, and write countless words until they have accumulated at least 6 medium cardboard boxes full of their scribbles plus gigabytes of hard drive space, is it possible for that person to be a crap writer – I mean if you practised all the those years and still didn’t get even the tiniest bit of appreciation and recognition for your work – is that the time to just say “Fuck it – I’m a crap writer – give it up, find something you’re good at.” And what if I won’t accept that, because I have to write – I have to write – there is no choice for me – appreciated or not – so then my voice, however much it doesn’t fit with what is regarded as a good voice is, as good as, as important as, as interesting as, as honest as any other voice of any other human being, whether expressed in words or visual art or, god forbid – dance. End of interjection.)

NOTE: From the novel “To Me”

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The Hidden Manifesto

From the book “To Me”

The Hidden Manifesto.

Premise:

Most of what everyone does is unnecessary and harmful.

Stop doing what is unnecessary
Abolish money
Grow or forage for your own food
Cook your own food
Make your own clothes
Build your own shelters
Help each other to do this
Have fun
Use or abuse no other sentient being
Do what you want but harm no one

That’s it

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4 New Paintings for 2019

Completed on the cusp of 2018 and 2019. (‘Scuse the faint shadows on the photos)

All are 16″ x 12″ Acrylic on canvas – all are framed – prices below

Mozaic-A
Mozaic-B
Earth and Sky
Oranges and Lemons

All 4 paintings are framed and ready for sale

Mozaic A & B = £160
Oranges & Lemons = £150
Earth & Sky = £120

* Prices are for collection by arrangement
If you want them delivered then please ask

Click here to use my CONTACT FORM either way

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Potato Wedges and other rambling – Podcast