Man, 1973 seems like such a long time ago...
There are worse ways to start your week than interviewing one of the guys who was pretty much responsible for creating a whole lifetime of hero worship and iconography. Like going to the doctors and being told he's sending you to the hospital for chest x-rays and full blood testing at the path lab for instance...
Kenny Kerner is just as he should be. Even though he's long moved out of New York (a mistake that could have cost me dearly in my timezone planning), he still retains that cool NYC accent that suggests everything he says has been learned the hard way - or maybe it's just me and my 70s tinted mind. The guy is a minefield of information and nuggets of wisdom on how to make it big in an industry that might suck you dry in minutes, fall out of his mouth every five minutes or so.
If I was a young-gun looking for somebody to have my back, this would be one of the first doors I would be knocking on. Be warned if you are such a young-gun though and happen to be passing by here... if you think Simon Cowell tells it like it is, you better be wearing a buffalo hide suit if you go knocking on this door expecting an ice-cream with a chocolate sticking out of it. It's the way it is - and you can't knock the man's credentials. I'll write this one up tomorrow...
Earlier on that same day, I took myself back to the doctor for this random pain that's stabbing and pinching in my chest and ended up with a shitload of paperwork and potential future appointments at the hospital. Apart from JuJitsu injuries, I haven't seen a doctor for over six years and even that was for something not really 'sick' related. I wish I had kept it that way now. There were a couple of other things I ran past him as well that are probably best not blogged about, but heart aside, I appear to be in pretty good condition inside all things considered! Maybe we'll get another ten years out of this moveable corpse after all!
Talking of meat-trains, I caught the trailer on TV this evening for Midnight Meat Train, the new Clive Barker movie. Let me posit a glimmer of hope for those of you out there who know the magic still exists somewhere but for many years have been unconvinced by the actual output. It's actually really good! Not thumb in the eye awesome, but it's certainly worthy of your attention if you're one of the faithful. More importantly, it reinstates some glimmer of hope that the remake of Hellraiser might not be the car-crash that we're all expecting...
Last of all, for I have very important other things to do honest, I bought a new pen a few weeks ago. Nothing special, it's merely a pen - or is it?
No. It is so much more than a pen!
The Parker Slinger is the Audi 80 of pens - my old Audi 80 anyway. I've never has so much fun with a pen as this one.
It's supposed to be cool and hip because it's a pen on a strap that you can hang around your neck. If you're wearing a suit and also wearing your pen, you can kind of get away with it as a "practical accessory" so long as nobody you care about is in the vicinity. At home however, with your 501s and surf t-shirt on, it has the ability to make you look like a special needs escapee who has stolen some 501s and a surf t-shirt.
The strap is known as "smart wearability" - how great is that! The body is "reverse designed" too and for added "man, this is a fucking cool pen" points, when it was first released in 1976, it was known as The Swinger.
So far, I have lost this unloseable pen at least ten times in one month, been laughed at even more than that, strangled myself when I got the strap caught on a door handle, nearly took my eye out from swinging it around very fast and written over 28,000 words with it. If you don't do anything else this month, go out and get yourself a Slinger. I promise you, your life will never be the same again.
All this for just £5.00 at your local supermercado! Why not take a pic of your special-needs self with your new Slinger and we'll start our very own rogues gallery. Mine is the blue one by the way. We could even start our own select Slingers Club where we all get together once a month and randomly use each others pens in as many combinations as possible - with consent of course...
Fuck, I am so sad.
