Sunday, November 04, 2018


There scarcely seems time to breathe at the moment. We did interviews over the last couple of days- Talk Radio on Friday and Resonance yesterday. All exciting and fun, but I'm low on fuel.
The last signature for the music copyrights is wending its way over to the publishers this weekend, and then I hope we'll be able to sign the last music contract.
The computers are saying 'no' to sending the promo films (don't they always?) so that's a bugger.
I was supposed to do a Skype interview this afternoon which didn't happen. Maybe the person who asked to do it is just an e-ghost wafting about in the ether, hitting on busy people for fun. I wasn't wearing Skype-friendly fashions anyway this avo, just a Sunday t-shirt and a Sunday face to match.
Instead I looked in my email trash and discovered that I have been hacked and have to pay 850 bitcoins to stop the hackers (there are two separate ones) from sharing the porn sites with my loved ones that I habitually visit. Unless the e-ghost has been doing this on the sly, my bitcoins are safe (I haven't got any anyway).
Mixing documentary-making with two jobs is completely knackering. I have poor sad bedtimes, and would feel anxious but there simply isn't the time. I sent a whoosh of vinyl singles out last week and got the vintage Gretsch out for a spin just in case my fingers forgot what they were for. They were delighted to have the exercise, and thanked me with a new song which sadly, my brain can't add lyrics to at the moment, although there are some scribbled biro meanderings slipping off the page in a book next to me on the chair that I'm slipping off.
Outside, attention-seeking fireworks are whooshing and banging like nobody's business.
Go away! I'm tired and not at all impressed by your futuristic endeavours!

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