I've had enough of this. Why did I fucking bother?

http://community.livejournal.com/little_bit_raw/10830.html?#cutid1

That's it. TRASHBAT has to go.

Permanently.

Christ almighty, Max Herbert is a persistent little sod ( Read more... )

From the Amazon website:

Hot Pre-Releases
Snakehead
£8.44
Eric Clapton: The Autobiography
£12.00
Book of the Dead
£10.99
Wildlife Photographer of the Year
£15.00
Hoxditch: an Oral History <--------
£15.00
Long Way Down
£12.00
Fatal Revenant
£11.39
Descent of Angels
£2.82

Apparently, pre-orders have gone through the roof.

This is...unexpected.

Some rough proofs of the dust jacket of my book came through today:

The proposed front cover:

( Read more... )

The publishers have moved the release date forward on my book. Apparently there are a few TV production companies sniffing around it as a possible project. They're interested in making some kind of documentary based on the latter part of it, so the editor's assistant has been ringing me every single bloody day to see how much more I can give them ( Read more... )

For a while, I'd almost convinced myself that the trashbat museum party might bring some sort of closure for me. Not just on Dad's passing and on splitting up with Jones but on the entire seven years since I moved to Hoxditch. I wanted to believe that if I got completely rat-arsed and humiliated myself with that Preacherman routine just once more, ( Read more... )

Well, everything around here looks pretty much the same ( Read more... )

Dad died, last night. He had a major stroke ( Read more... )

The publishers just rang.

They said they like what I've written so far, which is great news. However, they've set a condition on the next part of my advance.

They want me to interview...Nathan Barley. They were quite specific.

Just...I mean...how?...why? Why him?

For fuck's sake.

Yesterday morning, as I wandered back home from my daily coffee and cigarettes at LUNG (there’d been an Albanian altercation in the kitchen that involved more shouting and crashing than usual so I thought it best to drink up and make a sharp exit), I passed a small, hunched, elderly lady who leant against a garden wall and seemed to have trouble ( Read more... )