Apparently I’ve gone live. That makes it sound like everything that I’ve been up to at this point is a pre-record, which I’m pretty damn sure it wasn’t. I was certainly never handed a script.
Anna has just told me that it just means the website is alive.
No apparently it’s just live, not the other one. Anyway that’s made me feel better. Does the website make you feel better I wonder? I’d probably settle for making you feel at all, but let’s try and boogie together for the next five minutes.
My editor has whispered that the final draft and formatting of The Meifod Claw is but days away from completing its final lap of the perimeter, before I release the aluminium gate and chase it out into the open. After that the responsibility is yours, but of course I most sincerely hope that you enjoy reading it. Be warned however, it’s highly hopped (you gotta think around two hundred individual hops per chapter) and shouldn’t dissolve into a bitter after taste. High Notes would be cinnamon and tallness, Low Notes include late nights and the macerations of beforehand. In summary I’d say it’s Estate Vintage. Like a 1982 Volvo but not in beige. I hope that sounds appealing to you.
Elsewhere in the house I’m right now mixing the writing of this with attempting to assemble an easel that my eldest brother has loaned to me. That was great of him, but I took charge of it in several pieces rather than the complete easel that I was expecting. I’d already put the seats down in the back of the car to fit it in. I’m at Stage Three in the Four Stages of The A’s of Being Man.
Stage One; Arrogance, of course. The assumptive value that the background of your life experience will already have the easel half assembled. You’re laughing even before you begin.
Stage Two; You’re going to experience Anger. Enough with telling it off, it’s time for actions. If there’s still something left to assemble at the end of stage two you will continue to…
Stage Three; Ambivalence. You don’t care, and why should you? ‘It’ is just an easel (less than that, it’s in pieces) and you are a Man. You win, high five.
All seems sorted then, until an hour later Stage Four comes knocking about the back of your concentration. It’s called Acceptance, and you’re already on the phone and asking around for help. Congratulations!
So I’ll be off to pick up the telephone after this. No point in phoning my brother because the easel was still disassembled when I retrieved it. Perhaps it all ended at Stage Three with him.
In the quieter moments between all of the administration needed to form a publication and production company I’ve been finding time to slip away in writing The Brine in Me. Right now I know that it’s unlikely that you know anything of Derek Gainsborough from The Meifod Claw, so I hope when you discover him you’ll find it as necessary as I have to write his autobiography. If not I do still hope that you enjoy Cave Mind, frequent new episodes of which are going alive now on Youtube.
The yard is greater than the metre in all regards but length…
JW Bowe xx
P.S. Anna urges me to point out that the easel still hasn’t been assembled to a length measurable by either yard or metre. Plus apparently all the torn electrical tape improvised around it looks really unsightly.