Terror.

A field day for the media and every other news outlet in Britain as the news slowly developed as to what actually happened this morning.

Feedback

Feedback to the latest issue of New Wor(l)ds has been mostly positive. I generally send out around 20 copies to friends and peers. I think the fact I am still so productive and am able to produce this amount of short stories and poetry silences the cynics I know who perhaps wonder why I continue to do this in spite of the fact that the publishing industry has so far ignored most of my efforts. Personally I believe my work to be at the very least much more interesting than so much contemporary mediocre fiction - on the bookshelves or the airwaves or television screens. Perhaps if I actually wrote something bland enough it would get published in a reputable lit-zine or short story collection... But I don't do mediocre - in my writing or my music. My work is too immediate for that, too dynamic. I am thinking about posting a sample from New Wor(l)ds here now that I've sorted out a new layout template that allows for more text.

Watch this space!

The JPEG above shows the cover of issue 7. I designed the cover with a strong yellow background the black ink ran when I printed them. I think it added to it actually, though further copies may only have a black and white cover to save on ink cartridges!

Live 8

Hype aside these huge concert spectacles are hugely enjoyable watching from the comfort of your armchair. As I predicted many musical genres were poorly represented last night, and those that were the usual suspects.

Shortly after Christmas 1985 when Sir Bob was introducing his idea of raising money to the world, myself and several other local bands and musicians did our own money-raising effort for Live Aid. We all played for free and raised about £150 which was no mean feat when we were only charging 75 p admission! These gigs with many bands of differing abilities were always interesting. With no one person in charge it was everyone for himself in terms of securing a decent position in the running order. We ended up somewhere near the start for some reason but I had written a one-off song to rival Do They Know It's Christmas called We Know It's Not Really Christmas.

Here is the lyric:

Kilamanjaro's snow has spread to the Serengeti
Reindeer grazing side by side with buffalo
The tribesmen hunt with spinning bolas
But we know it's not really Christmas

Frozen waterhole yields no moisture
Flamingoes land like ducks on ice
And the lions of hunger wait in the tall grass
But we know it's not really Christmas

copyright SJH 1986