TAG ME UP

Fuckin hate taggers. Don't know what they are where you come from but here "taggers" are neandertal fuck-heads who have to write their fucking name everywhere with spray cans in a "dogpiss-to-mark-its-fuckin-territory" styley.

Nothing wrong with Graffiti artists, nothing wrong with Graffer's signing their work, but fucking tagging shits used to ruin my environment frequently. A dark art-less art.

That said, apparently I have now been tagged from Texas by the lovely Tequilita which means I have to answer some questions, so here goes:

10 years ago: Living in a squat in Dalston, East London. Partying Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. My backdrops were new. I thought I had discovered a new way of painting where I shone a bright light at a huge white canvas and after doing a two litre bucket bong I would fill in the shapes I saw with a black marker. I watched my paintings paint themselves in this way. I proceeded to get ripped off for them by every psychedelic trance promoter in London. I took acid most days and believed a psychedelic human awakening was going on. When I came down I really came down which I couldn't handle so I went back up again. My favourite moments were when people on acid used to come up to me and say

"Your paintings really fucked my head up."

I thought that was job done. I found it wierd that they all looked sort of "dragon like" and thought that some "dragon energy" was trying to access this world through them.

Most memorable nights..erm...Juno Reactor live in Tysen st and Linford Studios, Parallel Youniversity at Bagleys on Wednesdays, a Flying Rhino party when Mass opened in Brixton.. I think this was in 95 anyway.Indescribable screaming heavily sexual crazy dancefloor vibe. Superhuman dancing.

5 Years ago: Doing Ketamine, Pushkar, India. Travelling with a ladel with burn marks from the candle I cooked the K in and some stone balls I was carving (Trust me to take up stone carving whilst backpaking) Did Vipassna for the first time which cured me from depression for 2 months at least. It was great doing K at Hindu festivals because no one seemed to notice in the frenzy. Seriously wierd things happened by that strange lake and on the crystal mountain which overlooks the town.

1 Year ago: Getting evicted from some squat it looks like, can't quite tell from my archive which one. I think I was arguing with Abu Abdullah. Not sure. My IWC Media doc pitch focusing on Abdullah fucked up too. Abu Hamza was not long arrested.

Yesterday: On my mates boat drinking wine in civilized company.

5 songs I know all the words to: I know all the words to so many songs it is untrue. Easy ones to mention here would be the whole of AC/DC's Back in Black album, Most of Black Sabbath's stuff, but I remember all the words to stupid pop songs I don't even know I know. All of them. I don't know why.

5 snacks: Boring. I eat nougat, plantain crisps, flapjacks, cereals, dates, crystsalised ginger...

5 things I'd do with $100 million: Pay for the summer of love in a major city somewhere. Start a revolution in London. Something outrageous involving debauchery and drugs and me probably. Buy a ticket anywhere and start walking, keep walking buying tickets and going round and round the world completely at random on random forms of transport for the rest of my life. Build an earthship somewhere and an amazing eco-village to make parites in, probably in India or Cambodia or anywhere tropical. I'd swap the whole $100 million if I could have J-Lo's butt in front of me forever.

5 places I'd run away to: Anywhere tropical where the women are dark and lovely. Mozambique, Thailand (again) Ghana, That huge waterfall in Venezuela, India (again)

5 things I'd never wear: New clothes unless I know where they have been made. I don't wear shirts with collars very much. Shalwar Kamieze and me didn't get on in Pakistan, cant think of anything. No problem with dresses and make-up...Oh, I'd never wear those hip-hop/skater trousers which hang off your ass to look like you have turd in them. Nothing against them, they don't suit me.

5 joys: Trailriding, dancing on acid, sound of waves, bongs, talking to people whos views I don't share with a camera running.

5 toys: I'd like? Trailbike. Hard-tail jap engined chopper. Old Biodiesel bus to live in, something ecentric and high-up like an old Alvis or something. Lancaster bomber. Always wanted one. Gypsy moth bi-plane.

5 people to tag: Bill X Nillson rarely blogs about himself and has intrigued me recently. Right and Blond has also touched briefly in conversation on a life I'd like to know more about. Goldenballs for the same reason. I've e-known the Scrutinator for a long time without knowing much about him. I don't know. I suppose Mike likes blogging about himself although answering questions like this might not be abstract enough for him and I know most of the answers...Du Monde doesn't have a blog but leaves comments in very strange language on Sparkles blog...Oh and Bold as Love called me a United Kingdom fuck and a motherfucker. Hes got an interesting blog, maybe he'd have a go at this. Thats 7.