Last week I had the best experience of my life climbing Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. I have LOTS of photographs, and I have LOTS to say about the trip, but I have little time right now sop you’ll have to wait for a full report. Until then though, here’s a video of me reading Toto’s “Africa” from the summit:
I made this a while back after reading an amusing product review on Amazon for some expensive audio cables. Not much more to say really. Turn the lights down.
I’d Abby of you have been to watch the pack of Hollywood less which is “The Fifth Estate” at the cinema, I would highly recommend forgetting about it and watching this instead.
There’s this thing I like to do where I take terrible rap songs and read them out as if they are some sort of intellectual poetry. I have done many, but this one is still my favourite.
I wrote this in a previous blog post entitled “This Sinking Ship Will Not Be Abandoned”, but I decided to do a reading and post here. Allegedly some people like the sound of my voice. Enjoy.
I made this a long time ago, but I thought I’d share it up today. I have this hobby where I record rap songs in a dramatic voice. I turned the idea on its head and recorded a Wordsworth poem in the style of a rap. I reckon it sorta works.
I wrote this today while sipping americano in a coffee bar. I’m not sure if that makes me a hipster or not.
“How long have I been here?”
Face pressed against the glass
Of the windows in what once passed
And he tries to recall
What started it all;
The catalyst so small
Which set in motion the wheels of fate,
Driving him along the road to self-hate
While simultaneously promising to create
A better life.
But he can’t;
His mind is too clouded,
And his memories are shrouded
By the rage which now defines him.
Then the rage gives way to apathy.
But then, something stirs inside him,
And he becomes determined to change this.
To escape this prison.
So he takes the decision
To make the incision
Which will annihilate the visions
Of the past which haunt him.
He reaches for the key, all
Sharp, solid steel,
And as it enters the softness of the lock he can feel
It seal the deal.
And as the blood starts to congeal
He can finally see.
“This place is not for me.”
And the tranquility allows
Him to be free, for now.
I have a hobby which involves reading poetry into a microphone and putting it on the internet. Today I recorded this, mostly to try out a new video editing package. The poem is called “Permanent Days Unmoving”, and it’s no coincidence that my blog title is the same. I didn’t write the poem; it originally appeared on the second Downset album, “Do We Speak A Dead Language”, way back in 1996, and has always held a supreme resonance with me.
If this proves popular I may make readings a regular thing.