20 years ago I came to this country after 4 months on the road in India with a grand, a stack of journals and this ratty, Nepalese jumper. I came for one reason: the weather. I mean, to perform my spoken word. Which, is not always a good night out but I did my best to make it otherwise.
London is a tough town for outsiders and unless you grew up here you’re a ****ing outsider. I remember spending the first three nights staying with some Irish dude I met on the plane, rehearsing in his bathtub and on the tube and walking the streets, all so I could get a five minute open mic spot at the Enterprise pub in Camden. I remember being shocked at having to pay £5 to get in even though I was performing! But I got a guest spot, then several then some headline spots, won my first 11 slams before I flamed out at Nationals ( tho what did I expect performing a #terencemckenna / #dmt / #astraltravel poem in front of a thousand posh horse people at the Cheltenham Literature festival? Never was good at reading crowds). Some of those poems — including the Cheltenham flame out which is also the prologue to The Techno Pagan Octopus Messiah — are now digitized and under the Shouting tab on my website, please do check the bio.
London chewed me up for two years, spit me out… and I thought that was it until a lovely half-tattooed, self-styled English hedge witch read my book, dragged me back and put a ring on it. For which I am very grateful. I’m not a city boy by nature but London is my home… It’s the weather.
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