In the darkest of foul moods today. Tried to push it down but it kept coming back up to haunt. The day decided to get along with its life with or without me though, thus:

Propelled by yesterdays purchase of Ham on Rye, I figured I hadn't been over to Rye for a good couple of years, so jumped in the car to make sure it was still as sleepy as it should be - and it was.

I even found an indie bookstore that didn't suck. It's called Martello Books, which is a name that does suck, but their stock is pretty good, sporting lots of things not on the chain-store shelves including a copy of Warren Ellis's Crooked Little Vein which superficially looks like something I would go on about for months, so it had better be.

I also picked up a flyer for an exhibition that I must go to - that's a worrying two in two days - but this one is a no brainer. Dave McKean and Brigitte Evill have Narative Arcs going on at the Rye Art Gallery from 12 September to 11 October. Don't question it. If you're in the area, drop in - Dave McKean is simply the best in the business.

Been thinking over the weekend about organising a calendar for next year... or maybe even the back end of this, doing some readings at festivals and some other similar events. There seem to be more festivals than ever this year and I don't doubt that there will be even more kicking in next year. I know nothing whatsoever about any of them, so this will be a nice learning curve with maybe even some kind of payoff at the end.

On a similar subject, Eleanor and I were discussing poetry yesterday ('discussing' makes it sound more intelligent than it probably was), and what the hell I was going to do with all these scraps of paper and notebooks I have lying around. So I'm going to collect them all in one book and publish them pretty much as I'm doing with Wasteland and Blackout. What it shall be called I'm not sure but it's all here to put out so it may come quicker than expected. Alongside of that, she suspected that poetry was going to swing around and become very cool again over the next year or so. I'm no coat tail rider, but in that instance, I have no qualms about hitching a ride especially as it's not my main thing.

That's my day - more or less. Looking back over the post, it doesn't seem like I was in that dark place at all - but I was. Maybe still am but I've got an unbelievable amount of mag editing to do this evening for Burn and I guess I should really start getting my hands dirty in those poetry boxes...

...but first I am going to watch the new Torchwood Children of Earth trailer for the seventh time

Currently decided to read: Crooked Little Vein (Ham on Rye can wait I think)
Naming and shaming an awful book: Love and other Near Death Experiences by Mil Millington. It sounded good on the surface and ultimately delivered one of those sticky wet fireworks you get every now and again. Any publicity is good publicity but this is shit.