And so it came to pass.
On a drizzly Brixton night in late November, generous folk converged from across the Smoke to rest their weary bones and warm their cockles and toast the launching of the long awaited tomes.
I boshed three Quaaludes and sat there behind my desk with shades on, said not a whisper to a soul. I didn’t sell a single book or say a single word.
It was phat.
There were tears, heckling, immaculate finger food, the frothing over of champagne flutes, there was mirth, banter, old faces, no shows, books were sold, discarded, stolen, some praise was dished out, much muttered critique under breath, pre-Christmas yuletide cheer, inebriation cranked into 3rd. There was even a ring walk soundtracked to the Rocky theme tune. I’ve been told a great time was had by all, all except one. It was just one big blur to be honest. All I did was sit there like a mug signing books, smiling wanly. By the time I was ready to throw some shapes it was just me and the cleaner doing rounds.
It was good though.
And parties never are for you, I was reminded once more.
*
So dem puppiez have finally landed.
When you score a hat-trick you get to keep the match ball.
I figured why write one book when I could go hard.
Enter the TRILOGY.
Get in there my son.
*
First up.
How Way Leads Onto Way
The mothership. Probably the best stuff I’ve written in the last decade, piled into one collection. If I was a 90s kid making a mixtape for a crush, these are the tunes that would make the cut. There’s tomahawks on hair loss, dawn runs, depression, crashing and burning with ladies, heartache, heartbreak, parents, clean freakery and grief. If you want to buy one book I’d say spring for this one.
‘Brave and stunning’ VICE
£20
*
Next is.
Off Shoots
If the first collection was the mixtape for the crush, Off Shoots is the discarded bangers. A bunch of essays I wanted to put in the first collection, but somehow just didn’t seem to fit. This collection is less naval gazy, a bit more theory. Less oh look a daffodil, more who wants a big hit of this is what I think. In these pages are hammerblows on loneliness, YouTube addiction, getting ghosted, technophobia, self-belief and God. Read the instructions even if you don’t follow them.
‘This is spiritual help’ MEDIUM
£20
*
Bringing up the derrière.
Love In The Time of Corona
The last book is one of those dinky numbers you see at the checkout at Foyles which pique your interest cos they’re small and look sweet and you pick one up without even wanting to. As the pandemic kicked off a mate sent a text saying ‘if you don’t write a blog called Love In The Time of Corona what kind of writer even are you’. With elevated bpm I took on the challenge, keeping it up for a couple of months before retreating into a puddle of snot and self-pity. This book is my account of those uneasy weeks, the dawning of a strange morning one day we feared might never see nightfall.
£5
*
If you want be a real customer, you pick up all three in one go.
Signed, dedicated, replete with personalised inscription/haiku.
Oh well why not.
In the words of Tiny Teezie…
A Merry Christmas to us all.
God bless us, everyone!
