It's just not cricket

American foreign policy arguments are getting up my nose again, with the impending war on Iraq, and the constant American attempts to convince us that war is a good thing.

The main problem I have with American foreign policy, as I'm sure is the problem a lot of the world have, is its transparent selfishness, a perception that is perpetuated by the Yanks constant interference in overseas matters that have no noticable benefit for the indeginous population.

It's forever a war, whose aims are to protect freedom and justice and other buzzwords. Buzzwords that coincindentally reflect the buzzwords used to describe "The All-American way of life". So in essence they are striving to preserve the American way of life. Or in the countries that do not yet subscribe to this phenomenon, they are seeking to impose it.

And then they thinly disguise this imposition with poor arguments about trying to save people from oppression. The American way of life works in America because it is America. The British way of life works in Britain, because it is Britain. We think differently because we are different.

The thing is that the Yanks always seem to use the wrong words, the wrong arguments and often the wrong actions in the eyes of the world. Bush appears nothing more than a money-grabbing fool, of limited morals and even further limited brain capacity. And the American people argue their case poorly as well, always citing as an example of the success of their foreign policy that "you Brits should be grateful for us bailing you out from Hitler and his boys"

Well let me retort Mr Yanky Doodle. Your bail out is yet another transparent self-centred policy, which was not exactly selfless in any sense of the word. May I mention the words Pearl Harbour for example. It's not like you came in with the intention of bailing us out, it just looks good in hindsight to say that.

Also, had it not been for your kind intervention, the whole of Europe will have become a Nazi state with the power to put some very big holes in America and destroy the American way of life. What a coincidence.

I acknowledge that Saddam is a lunatic dictator and something must be done about him. But the UN ARE doing something. Unilateral action flies in the face of the values which the UN was set up to defend, and shows the US (and Britain) to hold the UN in contempt. When the rich can just bend international law at will, we are headed for an age of lawlessness, which cannot be a good thing.

Innocent people do not have die. We have the power right now to save lives, and it is our responsibility as human beings to do so.

Quote of the day comes from Imran Khan, the great Pakistani cricketer who says

"If and when this cynical war begins, other cricketing countries will have to ask themselves a tricky question: should they play England, a country quite prepared to visit far more destruction on Iraq than Mr Mugabe has ever visited on his own land?"

That hits the stumps.
Lately I've become acutely aware of acts of fate, which just seem to tie in with my life.

I've been reading about primitive art. The author, Leonard Shlain explains the fundamental diffference between western academic art and the art of preliterate cultures thus:

"Primitive art differs from art of the Western academic tradition chiefly in that the tribal artist does not seek to "match reality so much as to "make" it...By doing so, primitive artists directly contradict both Plato and Aristotle, who believed that mimesis, mimicking nature, was an innate impulse of the human personality."

He then goes on to say how primitive thinking is parallel to childlike visions of reality, which is in no way a bad thing, as it is more useful to the modern standpoint of scientific vision to think this way. This is in a chapter in which he describes the flaws inherent in pre-Einsteinian thinking, when Newton ruled supreme, king of a non-interactive universe.

But times have changed with the advent of relativity, the universe has itself taken shape and form, and the primitive way of thinking of the universe as an interactive medium where our actions and internal desires affect what happens in the external is actually remarkably useful standpoint from which to view reality in the modern scientific era. As we exist, out very being bends space and time and we affect the rest of the universe.

I was thinking about a poem yesterday, milling over the words in my mind on the way home from Bexleyheath. The words were coming to my mind and I was creating reality as I went.

Being and Nothingness (unfinished)

I have nothing
I desire nothing
therefore do I not have
Everything I desire?

Mine is everything
Everything is Me
I am the man who had it all
because I am content to Be

But sure as reality was created in my mind, so it was that I opened Tao Te Ching this morning on stanza 64 to be confronted by the manifestation of Tao itself, proving that living itself is both linear and circular. What is created is but destroyed and what is destoryed is created.

Tao Te Ching
---- Stanza 64 ----

Therefore the Master takes action
by letting things take their course
He remains as calm
at the end as at the beginning.
He has nothing,
thus has nothing to lose.
What he desires is non-desire;
what he learns is to unlearn.
He simply reminds people
of who they have always been.
He cares about nothing but the Tao.
Thus he can care for all things

Lao-Tzu, "Tao Te Ching"

The sheer joy of these coincidences in life never cease to bring a smile to my face.
I missed the last train home last night by about 10 minutes so had to walk home from Bexleyheath, a leisurely stroll of about half and hour with a stretch in the woods, which was cool. In every sense of the word.

COuldn't help noticing though that there are a helluva lot of foxes about these nights. And I'm not making a poor euphemism, I mean the red type with the bushy tails and the really cute whiskers and they are so cool to walk home with in the woods in the middle of the night.

Foxy Foxy
With your bushy tail and your pointed nose
You walk alone in the showdows
Caring little for me
You have worries of your own
I'm not alone
in this town
Not like you
Foxy Brown

Like a Ghost you appear in the night
Flitting in and out of sight
Flirting with the light
Spurning societys might
Yours is the freedom of society
Ignoring the high no regard for the mighty
Your life is my aspiration
Foxy Foxy you're my inspiration

Walk by my side
My Companion in the shadows
Life is yours with no illusions
Manifesting the Way
No confusion
just Being

Andy 2003

Personals

Monkeys - cheers for last night. I can't believe we actually got round to doing something. Note that as a success!

Cez - I think that the knives are out at head. I couldn't make it down in time but will keep you posted

Tom - I'm not gay, the fact that I was watching a documentary on teenagers coming out this morning on daytime TV is purely coincidental

Bags - I know I'm supposed to have rung you by now but I really can't be arsed. I'm sittin here writing this as you may have guessed
City of God

oh bloody ell, it's arrived in this country as well. I just saw the trailers for the new Hugh Grant/Sandra Bullock effort, Two Weeks Notice on TV. I prayed that we wouldn't have to suffer this drivel when I saw the trailers in the states, but it seems my prayers went unnoticed again. Cheers God, you non-existent bearded creation of mankind.

As if watching just one of these stuttering bumbling fools wasn't suffering enough they put both of them together for one and a half hours of "entertainment", no doubt an experience comparable only with having your finger and toenails pulled out with no anaesthetic. God help us (if You exist). Do people have nothing better to waste their time and money on that they will go out and watch these 2 half-baked idiots stumbling through a predictable script and "falling in love"? In London especially, where there is so much choice of alternative entertainment, where people can, for the price of a cinema ticket, go to the theatre or for less than that (well nothing actually) people can cane hours in art galleries, there is no excuse whatsoever to go and watch this absolute crap.

Please don't encourage Hollywood film-makers by seeing this movie. I guarantee you now it will be crap.

If we pay Messrs Grant and Bullock for producing substandard shite, we only have ourselves to blame when they produce more. After all, when you feed the crapping dog, he will only continue to produce crap. You have been warned.

If you are stuck for ideas, and have the money burning a hole in your pocket and the urge to see a film, see City of God. This awesome tour de force, based on a true story set in the slums of Brazil, is powerful storytelling at it's gory best. The story of a photographer, Rocket, who wants to escape the horrific gang culture of the notorious City of God, through his passion for photography is told with stark immediacy, is beautifully shot and wonderfully scripted and acted.

I rarely go to the flicks but films like this prove that film-making can be the king of the arts on it's day. This is violently good, a slice of biting reality which transports you from your cosy existence and throws you headfirst into the real world. Wonderful stuff.

Apparently McDonalds reported it's first drop in sales ever this year. Lets see to it that this is the year of the revolution, where we reject the bland franchises and embrace real cultural values espoused by independents. Leave behind the Bond Franchise, the McDonalds of the film world, and embrace the Samurai Sushi of arts. Mine will be the Jonnys special mate.
mmmm you've got to love living on a council estate

Went to the library this morning and nearly got run over by a motorbike gyppo (that's a gypsy for you yanks reading), a classic feature of Thamesmead. This place is a bit of a haven for gyppos with the council conceding on the issue of giving them a camp and building a load of houses like a trailerpark for them 10 years ago, from which they terrorise the whole of Thamesmead. Nice...

Thamesmead has a funny old history. The history of Thamesmead probably begins with the draining of the marshland to build a load of low-cost (read "shoddy") concrete houses for the poor.

Since then the council has been consistently displaying it's sense of humour with "improvements" ranging from closing off SOuthmere Park, a huge field where people take their dogs for a walk, for no reason at all to installing 4 huge concrete blocks in the middle of the lake, ruining the otherwise perfect view.

Other hilarious practical jokes include the installation of metal gates on every single walkway to try to stop the aforementioned motorbike gyppos from causing havoc (it hasn't worked as you can tell - they just break them). This has had the adverse effect of making Thamesmead completely impossible to navigate by wheelchair and a nightmare for anyone with prams or bikes.

In addition to this, Thamesmeads esteemed council decided some years back, that as a deterrent to motorbikes getting onto Southmere park, they would block road access. This they done in possibly the most stupid way I can possibly think of. They dumped a huge pile of mud on the road, about 8 feet high of pure mud. Genius stroke.

This made it impossible for anyone, other than the motorbikes, to get into the park. The motorbikes probably loved it, as it was shaped just like a ramp. their strategy didn't work and now all good law-abiding citizens of Thamesmead are unable to use Southmere park. Legendary.

So obsessed have the council become with trying to pull the plug on these gyppo motorbikers that everyone else has had to suffer. And they wonder where they went wrong. Well I think I may have the answer.

Try that huge trailer park thing that you built for them you fuckwits. It's right next to your offices. Fucking idiots.
Get your violins out

I heard a story just the other day of a poor graduate accountant who, having failed his exams with Yawncorp, was promptly fired from his cushy graduate job and is now wondering what the fuck to do to pay the bills. Given that he had to move to relocate, and has now been semi-indoctrinated into the ranks of the boring only to be fucked over by the very hand that he had assumed would feed him for life I know i should be feeling sorry for him shouldn't I?

Well do I fuck!? Hell no!!!!

I can't imagine anything worse than the feeling of being fired...except the feeling of being accepted for a job as a graduate accountant. Once you choose to become a graduate accountant, you are choosing not just a job, but you are choosing a whole way of life, a whole new way to think and you are choosing to invest your time and trust in this organisation. It is meant to be a symbiotic relationship, you give them your potential and they give you a lot of money - we all know the deal here. If you've chosen this way of life, it is more than likely that your motivation is a career for life with good pay within an organisation who will look after your needs.

As much as the company propaganda will espouse the notion that you will join the company and be able to be creative within your role, we all know that in reality, you will have to compromise any creative urges you may have to fit in with company policy. It is only through the creative expression of your Self that we can see what is in our soul.

In short you sell your soul, for some money and the promise of riches eternal. A cushy job in the city, no creativity or self-expression required.

And what a tempting offer it aint. But people take it up nonetheless.

And it does crack me up when, after trading it all in, your ivory tower collapses.

So, spare a thought for the poor boy who failed his exams and is now out on a limb.

awwwwwwww diddums

It's probably the best thing that could have happened to you mate.
Promises, promises...

I, Andrew Hoang, hereby swear that I will never go onto an accounting companies graduate scheme.

Is that clear enough yet, H? I refuse to be brainwashed and indoctrinated into the world of detached zombie clones that constitute the bulk intake of Yawncorp Incorporated and their vaious subsidiaries. Corporate ambition seems to consist purely of the desire to be further subjugated within the constraints of capitalist society, bound by rules and regulations which prevent true liberation of self.

The wonder of the modern world is that people continue to be slaves when given a choice.

The man who gave it all away

I go in at 9 and home at 5
I check my pulse to make sure I'm alive
Grey like a corpse when I look in the mirror
In the morning I do up my tie

Black socks, grey suit can't stand out from my peers
7am wash behind my ears
Shirts of different colours make me stand out from the crowd
As I pass away my years

Look at I'm me making an impact
This corporation has kept my bank balance intact
The price is my soul and my life and my mind
When the hell did I crack?

I had it all - potential to burn
but I burnt it with the fire of greed to earn
Cash, money and necessity
Creativity carried around in an urn

Look and lament at the altar of passion
I have become a follower of fashion
I will die with a bucket full of useless cash
And unfufilled ambition

Andy 2003
Bong

Bad birthday planning is the norm on my part, which is why I have let Jay plan the last 3, and this year, sans Jay, it was a logistical nightmare. We couldn't even work out what time to get to the theatre. So the 4 of us missed it (the wrong play as well it must be added) and went out instead to Edgware Road where we spent the whole night with a Hookah (no Cez, I mean a bong, not a cheap whore), smoking away late into the night in an arabian bong-joint.

Yeah it was a chilled an relaxed evening which was well cool and I'd like to say thanks to Suze, who always makes me smile, and Hieu and Gerry for being consistently brilliant.

Someone else brought a completely unexpected smile to my face this birthday though and I have to give her a mention because it was so amazin, and so out of the blue I am still reeling from it. Z, top honours go to you babe, for actually makin me a birthday card.

I acknowledge that my e-mail confounded a great many of you, as materialism is an accepted paradigm which many of you ascribe to unquestioningly (yes you know who you are), and the concept of someone who has chosen the path of non-material conquest of self is perhaps as alien to you as getting mugged on the streets.

I am happy that the post this mornin contained nothing that people had trudged through the streets deliberately looking for, and that someone had understood the e-mail so thoroughly that I got a handmade card. But I didn't expect it to be you, Z and for that I am unwaveringly yours.

A success then, as success is measured in the currency of affection not the monetary value of presents recieved.

One of my recent projects was an art project of other peoples work around America. I carried my sketch pad around the states with me and spoke long and hard to people, who ended up drawing for me. There is nothing that you can give me that is more valuale than your art, as to give me your art is to give me your heart.

A handmade card and any work of art is an abstract concept, signifying time spent with your thoughts and feelings. Expression of feeling through art is the most personal act you can perpetrate, it's an individual feeling and the struggle to conceptualise and materialise your thoughts and feelings is reflected in the time spent on a piece.

The final piece in all it's glory is a combination of the artists feelings at that moment, expressed in their own action. The time spent making the piece reflects the dedication to the pursuit of expression. In total art represents everything that I desire, time and affection and many find their art as difficult to part with as their heart. Because in art is an expression of raw emotion.

For me to recieve a raw piece of emotion is an honour and one I do not take lightly. Emotions cannot be bought.
Confessions of the streets

I have to confess to one perpetration of straight-faced lying that I feel compelled to perpetrate all the time, which will perhaps undermine your trust in your favourite narrator of life. It has been playing on my mind a little recently, what with my babies, the Missiles at Warwick series professing my point of view on the subject of integrity and I felt I could keep it secret no longer. I have lied to some of you.

I will defend my actions only by saying that it was for the greater good, undermining my own integrity in respect of your feelings but I now realise that what I've done is wrong and I am writing to atone for my mistakes.

What has been bothering me is thus....

I live in a council estate. I have been mugged 5 times or more in my life, I grew up in a rough part of town and we were always poor. I've got my finger on the pulse of what happens from the ground up because I grew up around middle classes as well as working classes. I have worked all my life for as long as I can remember.

All of this is true.

But nowadays, thanks to Warwick, I hang out with a load of middle class, well-bred boys and girls, all wrapped tightly in cotton wool all their lives. Don't get me wrong I don't have anything at all against any strata of society and my experience of the world has made me the supremely adaptable character I am today, fitting seamlessly into any sphere of society. I hang out with middle classes, working classes and the upper echelons of society simply and easily because they are all human and I have no predjudices against anyone because, as I said before, the full colours of life cannot be seen if you view life through a filter.

My life is all about the full human experience, and I will turn down nothing that allows me to experience every aspect of life.

What bothers me at the moment is this. I've had to lie to my middle class friends.

Some of them have turned round and said with conviction that they think they are still grounded and know what real life is about. And I've just agreed with them so as not to damage their ego.

That's my confession. I've lied to protect you from the real world. You really do think the world is a fine and fluffy place. you know who you are.

Well I'm sorry to have damaged my integrity, but I realised recently that the only way I get things done properly is the no-nonsense straight-talking approach. It doesn't work for everyone it's just that that is my favoured method of approach and it works for me.

So in future, if anyone does talk bare shit about themself being street and I know that they aint I will just tell em straight out. Sorry in advance if you get offended by my wholesale trashing of what you believe, but really life can be fuckin grimy and in a great many of your cases you haven't got a fuckin clue what you're talkin about.

I acknowledge, from my vantage point in a council flat in Thamesmead, that I am not the worst off person in the world and I will not confess to being street, but I can relate. My cousin Pete is street in my opinion, and pretty much the rest of you, well... aint. Sorry to deal that shocking blow to you all. I just had to clear my conscience.

Personals

Slit - You are not street. Bear in mind though bro, that that does not mean you aint cool, cos you don't have to be street to be cool and you are definitely cool

Cez - Cheers for that chat last night bitch. I will post a link to my topless picture online on the photos section of my website

Chuv - Human dartboard?! I will use you as my official jump tester for my new company "Anvil Parachutes" bitch!

Sexually-frustrated P - Remember that they are also good for carrying a litre of water, but you may want to rinse them a coupla times first

Slutty - Battery huh. And I'm the one gettin laughed at for a minor technical fault! Hypocrisy rules supreme. Also, if you do get through this, go to Mischief USA

Ants - I was shite on saturday. I can't play this saturday cos I have stuff on, bit sign me up and I promise I'll get fit
Crossed lines

We are a country obsessed with mobile phones. We've all got one (except Matt - nice one mate), and we are, in the mian, slaves to the phone. They are everywhere and nowadays too many people have become too dependant on them for my liking.

Admittedly the British obsession with mobile communication does have its plus points, like that I can get hold of my mates at any time, but on the flipside is that they can get hold of me too, which is definitely a bad thing if you ask me.

But probably the worst thing about the mobile revolution has got to be the misguided concept of free calls, and its inevitable flipside.

If you're on the same network as the majority of your friends or the same network as your best mate then free calls are obviously going to bring you closer to these particular people, knowing that you can call them at no extra expense, but the flip-side of this free-call bonanza is that cross-network communication costs a bloody fortune.

As a result, people are neglecting their mates on other networks, I know I have neglected Jay (mainly cos I never ring anyone though to be fair) since he changed to O2, and people don't generally form friendships across networks any more. It's like the term "Networking" has taken on a new meaning. But neglecting established friends because they are on another network sucks balls.

No-one uses their free calls to landlines straight as, from a social standpoint, the landline has slipped to a second place communication medium, as it's now seen to be a mediated medium where, to get through to your intended you run the risk of actually having to talk to someone else. I've spent many a long hour talkin to my friends mums and family members and it's the collest thing when they can pick the phone up and say "Bags it's Andy on the phone for you" These feelings are nearing extinction in the current climate of so-called personal mobile communication.

With the cost of calling your friends now a factor in whether or not you do actually ever call, the fact you can call them for free or for 50p a minute is mixing business with pleasure and this in my mind is a very bad thing indeed.

Whatever way you look at it, a friend becomes either valueless, worthless or too expensive, you lose.

So consider for a moment the value of true friendship, seperate the economics from the dynamic of social interaction. Leave your phone at home and come over to my house and you'll realise that friends should all be priceless.
Wish you were here?

Raaaaaaaaaaaaar-harrr-harrr! I just saw Matthew Kelly on "Wish You Were Here", touring Russia to Beijing. Watch your arse Pete, he's comin to get you bro! Bet you Wish you were here now don'tcha bro!!!

Well, it's one more day before I stake my claim to my first 15 minutes of fame. It's quite exciting really. I'm not nervous, cos I have nothin to lose and everythin to gain. What I am a little concerned with though is the startling link between fame and paedophilia these days, and I just wanted to allay some of your fears.

I realise that some of you may have also made the link between being famous and being ritually humiliated in public and ridiculed in the british press on child abuse allegations. I realise that, with my impending fame you probably assume that with fame inevitably comes a charge of paedophilia, but I'd like to assure you here and now that me and E are not, and never were in any way sexually involved officer. It's bags you want officer, I'm an innocent man.

It just seems such a sad state of affairs that celebrities, who should be setting an example to society, are increasingly sourced from just about anywhere. There was once a time when celebrity came as a byproduct of the relentless and determined pursuit of a passion. The famous were people who deserved to be famous because their perseverence in their chosen field had brought them fame. They were masters of their art.

You no longer need talent (as I am setting out to prove this year in my d-list celebrity quest) to be a celebrity, you know longer need to be superbly skilled at what you do and you don't need to be ethically and morally sound. You don't need to be intelligent either as Jade Goody proved last year (and for that matter the rest of the Big Brother lot before her, but I wouldn't be able to name any of them as I've never watched it).

With the rise of "reality TV" as a medium of entertainment we are left in an era of d-list celebrity saturation and it seems that the dumber the celebrity the better. People are dumbing down in accordance to what they see on TV and the cycle of stupidity continues.

So, in typical reactionary fashion, I aim to strike a blow to the currently accepted mode of thinking and reverse the decline myself. I aim to bring some respect, intellect and fashionability back to celebrity. I want the age of real celebrity back, people who you could look up and aspire to, not like the kiddy-fiddlers of today.

How do I intend to go about doing this? Well it's simple. I aim to play the game but by my rules. By the end of the year I will be a D-list celebrity and one of such crackin proportions that the concept of aspiring to be a D-list celebrity will seem ridiculous. I'll make everyone realise that true celebrity is something you have to work for not, like now something that is given to you on a plate. The celebrity that channel 4 are dealing out at the moment is a poor relation. I'll make it clear now that I am merely exploiting the system because that is the way the system is and I acknowledge the existence of a flawed system which allows someone like myself, who has not mastered anything at all to become a celebrity. It's ridiulous. I have done nothing worthy of celebrity and hence this whole thing is a real joke. And that's what I want to prove.

So form a queue here for my autograph kids, cos the world of D-list celebrity is gonna be turned upside down this year. Don't say you weren't warned...
It's that day again...

You know, it's gonna happen sooner or later kid. You're gonna have to realise that you can't allow inconsistency in thinking. You can't make a big deal about your birthday just being another day, when you see Valentines day as the worst day of the year.

So this year, I'm gonna have to get over this. I'm gonna have to face it that yes, I am destined to be single for the rest of my life and that everyone around me will always sick it up in my face once a year. In the same way that I have neglected my birthday off the cuff as a day where you have to seize opportunity like any other, well so is feb 14 and for that matter every other day of the year. I can't talk about how I stand on the outskirts of society not worrying too much about fitting in, when I clearly see that I don't fit in like usual. Every other day of the year I couldn't give a fuck that I don't fit in, I like it actually. But this year on feb 14 I will turn a blind eye to the fact, and walk on the borders of society with my head held high as usual. There's no reason I should feel like shit for not fittin in just cos I'm expected by society to have a girlfriend. It's not my way to care what society thinks of me, and I should not allow a lame creation of marketing men to oppress me and crush my spirit.

I stand by my way of life, I am proud to stand out and live how I do. If ever anyone wants to go out with me then that's up to them, and until then I live my way, my life and by my methods. If you don't get it then tough shit.

I can't sit around and feel sick this year like I normally do, crushing nausea oppressing my brain and stirring my stomach. This year I can't play with sharp objects while I watch the letterbox. Because this year I don't give a fuck, if no-one acknowledges my existence. This year, feb 14 is another day to make an impact, another day to rip up London and make an impact on the world. It's just another day and I'm gonna see to it that I make the most of it like I do with every other.

Cos I am single and beyond caring.
If someone doesn't give me a job soon I will go on hunger strike

the title of this piece pays homage to Matt by which I mean I was so lacking in inspiration that I nicked it direct from his fabulous blog, because I found it so fitting with my current position.

Unemployed with a physics degree and hence unemployable, it's a whole barrel of laughs I can tell you. But I'm not gonna sit around and mope all day that I haven't been accepted to suck cock in a corporation - hell no! Cos that just wouldn't make sense now would it?

Instead I have been hard at work applying for loads of fuckin crazy shit and as a result I am gonna be on tele among other things. I'm going in filming on wednesday.

With reference to that last post about my birthday, I had a chat with carl today and, tryin to explain to him that I don't give a damn about my birthday and that I am doin something for everyone else rather than myself he says I need landmarks and milestones to look forward to. But I gotta raise this question in answer to that.

What exactly is a landmark to you? I mean what exactly do you see as important enough to look back on, great parties or doing something that really makes a difference that you can be proud of?

Well I know where I stand and I don't really see this as a big deal. It's just a good stick to beat my mates into seeing me, who may otherwise not make the effort. I know that my stance on this issue seems perhaps a little militant but I am merely makin a point. This is not an important event. You don't have to come to London and I'd rather you just rang me and arranged a time to meet individually because real relationships are much too difficult to forge in the cold atmosphere of a forced celebration, but are much easier in the warmth of a one to one meet.

For me the main landmark on the horizon is not really my birthday or even surviving Valentines day without topping myself (more of which later) but my impending TV appearance. Yeah I'm gonna be on tele, and to celebrate, I'm thinkin of holdin the first of many (hopefully) "Andys on TV" parties, which will be round in my tiny council flat where I live with my nan. Attendance is by invite only as my nan and aunt will have to calculate how much homemade vietnamese food to make and we'll all sit around drinkin beer and eatin then cheer when I come on. And that's the crux of it really.

Now that's what I call a landmark!

Personals

Eden - first one's in the post now. Should be there by the end of the week

Ants - Damn I was shit this weekend! I played like two pieces of fresh turd and I promise I'm normally fitter than that I swear!

Pete - mmmmm in my nice warm house here with a hot mug of tea, roaring fire. mmmm yeah much better than freezin my nuts off in Beijing. (Yeah right...)

Slit - Forget Luis Figo.....It's Brian McBride!!!!!

Tam - Yeah your brit cousins are all out of their minds. Pete is freezin his bollox off and thinks it's funny, I'm gonna be on tele catchin frogs in a net and Hieu has been seen about town wearing a swastika. No wonder our american cousins never come over...

Taz - Headbutt! Wicked!

Matthew Kelly - You are a sick pervert

The people at Angel HR - You are a bunch of wankers!

Lionel - Martinique...mmm sounds good. See you soon mate

Birthday

Alright alright, I've had my first enquiry about what I'm doing for my birthday and it's a week in the coming, so I thought I'd better start thinkin about it, because I'm gonna be fieldin calls about this all week I know, so I guess I'd better start thinkin about it.

Firstly there is one thing I have to get out the way. Yes my birthday is on saturday I will be 23. And I don't really care. I had to sit and work out how old I would be because after 20 I really stopped givin a damn. I've worked out a pretty reliable system to wotk out my own age, it's too complex in it's detail to go into just now.

But honestly I don't really care too much about birthdays, mine, yours, the Queens, they are just days like any other and every day should be a day where you go and enjoy yourself, livin life to it's fullest and bein true to yourself - who needs an excuse to have a great time and to give appropriate things to people you love? I don't care if I recieve gifts on my birthday - it's so much more refreshing when you just give me something out the blue in the middle of the year just because you saw it and thought of me. It's a much nicer feeling to know that the feeling and the thought was not a false and forced expression. I feel guilty recieving presents when I know that people have trudged through the streets trying to think of something to get me. That's unnatural, just don't do it please.

Also, those closest to me know I feel a little insulted by pure materialism for the sake of it. Please guys, I really don't care for presents just bring yourselves. I love my friends and family for who you are and the amount of affection I feel for you is not going to change if you get me something or don't. I've said it before but please don't patronise me with materialism. Make something yourself, that will hit the spot!

Movin on then to the subject of what I'm actually gonna do. Well my first reaction would be to say "nothing at all", because the concept of forcibly having a good time for the sake of an arbitrary day is just ridiculous. But on further reflection I see this as an opportunity to see my friends, people who may or may not actually attach value to this occasion but will go out of their way to see me because of it. And it is a fool who wastes an opportunity to see friends at no expense to themself!

So yeah I will have some sort of meet up but it's just a get together to see my mates. I'm not the biggest pubber and clubber cos you don't get to talk to your mates, I don't like the normal celebration methods, I'm not gonna get drunk, cos that's not really me. I'm not gettin old, I'm just being honest.

I'm not gonna leave London cos I love it so if anyone wants to join me you're gonna have to come 'ere.

I want to go the theatre in the evening and, if the weather is right in the day, I want to have a picnic in the park with some beers and some homemade sarnies and a football. A hamper would be nice as well and a flask of hot tea. mmmm tea....
Bring your own sandwiches and enough to go round. Anyone who can get their mum to cook stuff will have my eternal love, cos aint nothin better than mums cookin.

So there you have it. Mail me if you have any questions or suggestions. Everyone is invited and feel free to bring all your mates. I'll post any further ideas on this website.

Big up yourselves!
One Love
Andy
Big up your station

Fuckin ell!!!! Sometimes I lose my faith in UK Garage, then I hear a set on pirate radio like the one I'm listenin to right now on Deja Vu and it just makes me realise the passion and energy in the UKG vibe. It is absolutely bloody heavy sometimes, if you get the right DJ on the case and the right tunes. Add the interactivity of textin in and the missed calls and it's a real subculture which just kicks so hard!!! The non-garageheads would not get this and non-londoners cannot understand this vibe, it's not like anything outside of London.

Pirate radio, the new educator of the masses. This is the voice of the streets, the latest tunes being smashed to pieces by the best DJs and MCs, it has raw energy that just cannot be matched. God forbid that the government clamps down on this, cos this is brilliant.

But I hear rumours through the grapevine that the government are going to start fining venues that hire garage DJs. These guys are part of an underground culture doing there own thing, pursuing a passion and getting tiny money for doing what they believe in. It's keepin em off the streets and not hurting anyone. They are perfecting their skills on the mic and the decks and entertaining the people.

The problem is a lack of understanding by the government of the need for pirate radio on the streets where the kids really need an outlet for their thoughts and feelings. Pirate radio represents a feeling, a cultural vibe a feeling of outlet for a generation and by clamping down on this rather than say drug dealing they are really wasting time and money. What are the disaffected youth going to do once they have it all taken away? They will become more disaffected and disillusioned and turn to crime.

The DTI, in their crackdown on the pirates are trampling all over something they really cannot comprehend. Pirate radio is a cultural catalyst, not a menace to society. This is the voice of real people and by clamping down they are effectively taking away our voice.

Let's look at the fact that it's illegal for a second.

Why does an acticity become illegal? Any activity which causes harm to any member of society has a right to classified as illegal in the public interest, as it is surely the duty of the law to protect the upstanding members of it's society. It has been argued that pirate radio contributes to damaging our record industry as royalties are not paid to the artists when a tune is played, but lets be realistic about this for a second. We the listener go out and buy the tune when we hear it on the pirates because it has credibility. The pirates have been responsible for breaking many artists into the public consciousness and in some cases have been the sole reason for some artists existence. Most mainstream stations wouldn't dare to stick their necks out far enough to actually play these tunes, so underground pirate airplay actually gives the artist sales and hence money. Far from harming the industry the pirates are surely contributing and from their own pockets at that. The illegality of Pirate radio shows that the law does not stop to consider the circumstances surrounding pirate stations, which are set up from a passion for music and shows an ignorance of the scene which they are trampling over.

Long live the pirate stations, the voice of the people.

Big up yourselves
The Hawk
Frogs

Honesty is so under-rated these days. Many of you have seen me in my different guises, as I am a different shell for different people, but one thing remains the same. I am always Me.

Truth and integrity are the first principles of living, because soon everything real boils down to the truth. No matter how many lies and layers you put in the way, truth exists and is tangible while lies are ethereal like smoke and mirrors.

So why do people lie anyway? Why do people create fabrications to cover up what is real? Why bother to make your fellow man sift through layers of crap to get to what they really want to know?

I have one talent of sniffing out bullshit and tuning into whatever frequency my audience is on. I can feel your level of integrity although I may not ever mention it. I just adapt and mirror you. If you give me bullshit then I'll give you bullshit back, because you create your own fate. It's the principle of instant karmic reaction. Ask me a straight question and I'll give you a straight answer happily. Honesty is truly the best policy.

Anyway enough of that, what's been gwan on here then? I was supposed to be going to Warwick uni today with Charma and Jay but Jay went down with some sort of deadly disease so was unable to haul himself out of bed. Big up yourself Jay!

I got a call today that next week I'll be filming a thing for tele, where I have to run around catching frogs with a net in a disco, a concept so crap I should really walk away, but it will make a half-decent pub story. Keep your eyes peeled right here on wednesday for the update on that incident.

Inspiration is running a bit dry at the moment I'm afraid, as you may be able to tell. Hopefully things will pick up next week when the carnival preparations begin. That's where the inspiration came from last year, so let's see it kick off again yeah!

Send me some mail to cheer me up and give me some ideas bitches.
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I decided that now was a good time to publish this piece. I wrote this a long time ago, I was probably in Seattle at the time. It just seems to sum up how I feel right now. Sometimes it is possible to feel TOO unique in this social society.

A Republic of one

I am the eternal Platonist
looking back through the tears at what I missed
Friend or enemy to all but a lover to none
A billion people in the world and I can't find one

I wish I could a void singularity
Sometimes it feels like my destiny
A black hole in my mind lying next to Me
A superstar to bring out the best in Me

I walk through life with non-commital love
I can't in get through the gates above
The angels with their wings just turn away
One man strides alone towards his grave

Andy 2002
Written Dec 9, 12:36
This seasons fashions

I think the British are very stylish. We lead the USA in fashions and fashion designers like McQueen are only pipe dreams for those Yanks. On a Metro train to JFK from Washington DC this December I was sitting next a Fashion Designer from LA who told me that he thought that he thought that the USA was lagging behind all of Europe in terms of style, being behind the times in terms of style as well as geographically.

As a native Londoner i see the latest fashions (and pay very little attention to them) as well as crazy, open-minded yoof wearing whatever the fuck they like (my kinda style) every single day and I think it's the openess of us Brits that sets us apart from our conservative American counterparts, who fear peer-pressure so much that they sacrifice self-expression at the altar of conformity, which at the moment means that all the kids wear crap baggy trousers and wide, sk8er boi shirts and look like right pricks.

So on the way back I was expecting to be hit by the wave of fresh air that is British "I-don't-give-a-fuck" fashions and was hoping to be overwhelmed by colours and designs again that would leave me wondering "where the hell (and why!?!) did you buy that!?" as often happens when I walk around London. And when I look in the mirror.

But instead of the Visual panacea or Eden of the senses I so lusted after I walked into fashion hell.

It seems that the Brits just have no clothes for this sort of weather whatsoever. Even though we are percieved abroad as a cold and foggy island it seems that the Brits just haven't got the wardrobe to cope with extreme cold. The classic stiff upper lip we British are renowned for means that, rather than admit that it is cold we go around wearing our summer gear sometimes adding a light coat when it "gets a bit nippy" right into the middle of winter until it gets REALLY unbearable.

At that point when our stiff upper lip gets just TOO stiff, we abandon our sense of fashion and dig out that really fuckin awful coat that we keep in the attic as a last resort - The Emergency Coat. By this point it really is TOO fuckin cold and we assume that everyone else has also discarded all taste and/or has died from pneumonia, so we step out in our very worst threads, clothes that wouldn't look out of place in Salvation Army soup queues.

I got on the bus the other day, a place that usually teems with colour and hippies and punks with glittering jewellery and pink and green hair and equally colourful clothing, to be greeted with a sea of black hoodies and macs. It was a fashhion disaster! Don't they know that black is SO ten years ago!

Of course I was in grey, with a Stetson hat on and wearing hiking boots (Berghaus are the new Prada you know) and a pair of Army Combats (REAL army combats not those crappy Gap ones although I must admit to having felt a little 1998 at the time. Perhaps this was a bad fashion choice...) and looking around felt like I had stumbled into a mortuary for people whose sense of style had died.

So London, buck up your act and buy a winter wardrobe, this is just disgraceful! Woolen knitted jumpers are so in as are colourful stripes and fur (fake of course) but Wellies, black hoodies and combat trousers are out. Sorry for setting such a bad example.

I'm going to go lock myself up and lash myself 100 times with a whip for my crimes against fashion and I suggest you all do the same.
Corporate Cocksuckers

Pretty good week so far. It's the first real working week of 2003 and so far I've spent the day glueing circles to a piece of paper and adapting the lyrics of a 70s disco classic to read like the sordid tale of a transvestite sex change operation.

It can only go downhill from here...

Speaking of deviant transvestites, I then spent the rest of the day pissing my cousin Pete off at the airport so he would appreciate his holiday more, as I saw him off to Beijing from Heathrow. Then I went out with Chuv and ended up eating sushi and NOT going to the theatre due to Time Out cocking up the schedules.

Since getting back it's been a frenzy of meeting mates and long, late-night discussions about everything ranging from the ridiculousness of American foreign policy to the ridiculousness of American pedestrian laws and everything in between.

In summary, since getting back, I've had 1 curry, 3 beers, met 1 pair of beautiful twins (on seperate days), seen countless dead bodies, seen my best mate twice, 1 housemate, 1 brother, 1 sexual deviant cousin, 1 good friend from Warwick, been to Camden, played football once, eaten sushi, pissed in one illegal location, spoken to one mother and one mother-to-be, applied for 30+ jobs (got rejected 4 times and rising), bought only one 12" single (Nine Lives Feat Memzee "One more chance"), been to 2 art galleries, one theatre production (closed at the time), and been back to Heathrow once.

London is still a most amazing city, although right now I have to admit that it's a little cold for my liking, as I found out on saturday when I went out in my shorts and T-shirt to play football in Regents park, shivering like the Millennium Bridge on a day of resonant wind frequency. One day it will probably be my recklessness and complete disregard for my wellbeing that kills me but until then I will simply carry on regardless, because I love being reckless as much as I don't care too much about living and dying.

I have noticed that the term "Corporate Cocksuckers" that I always use to describe the masses of whores who sell themselves short in life, doesn't go down very well with the masses. Of course I mean the analogy to be as evocative and gut-wrenchingly sickening as possible because it does sum up pretty much what you people are doing when you sell your talent for dollar bills without a sideways glance at the consequences. In short you are selling your intellectual property much like a whore sells their body, to gain material wealth at the expense of personal enlightenment, for the pleasure of the corporation who rapes you and gives you money to soften the blow.

God apparently gave us free will to choose our path to enlightenment for ourselves, so says the bible. Now I'm not religious in any way but I believe that religions merely teach us a way to live our lives, a guideline which points the way through stories and metaphors. In this case, I would argue that the free will is inherent in our being, that we ourselves give us the free will and that by choosing the right path we please ourselves and gain enlightenment.

The metaphor is complete from a biblical perspective when we add that God made us in His image - that is to say that We are our own Gods, we live to bring fulfillment to Us through the actions of our own free will. There is no God in Heaven as such but the bible merely serves as a metaphorical guide to point the way, much as the proverbial Taoist finger pointing to the moon.


In short, sucking cock on the streets and sucking cock in an office are not altogether different pursuits. The only real difference is how much you get paid.

Live in your feet people, don't die on your knees.

Normal service resumed

Alright bitches, looks like it's time to get back to the funnies again. Gettin back to my beloved London town has made me go all mushy and sentimental and from readin my last couple of posts I figured that you lot would make out I was goin soft.

The hottest dog on the block is back in town
The bitches flock round to see him don his crown
The king of the castle in his council flat
The bitches roll round the floor on their back

"Hey Andy come on over, give me a scratch
Feel my chest Dogter, havin a heart attack
Come on big boy fall into my trap
I'll be your dog and I'll sit on your lap"

"Hey baby" I say "you tryna lead me on?"
She flashes me a slice of her thong
"Baby I think you've got me all wrong
You don't look like you can last all night long

Turn the fuck around and get your clothes on
Take this fuckin john right offa my shlong
It will take more than a slut to turn on King Kong
Real class operatics not karaoke sing song"

There goes the bone again a ding dong
Peter my cousin who's goin to Hong Kong
China for breakfast in a week of dim sum
Thailand right after to get some cheap bum

Week off work see my dogs from home
The Kennel Club is how they are known
Down the pub or on the dog and bone
All of em are bitches when they're in the zone

So come on around to my fuckin house
Get down on all fours and smell my arse
I wag my tail and wave it up high
I cock my leg and I piss in your eye

So welcome back to the king of the shelter
Down from the sky on my helter skelter
This year I promise gonna be a belter
Signin off, The Mischief Maker

Andy 2002

Quote of 2002:

"The problem with the French is they have no word for Entrepreneur" - George Bush (Who else!)


Friends and Family

Thanks to all my bitches for making it so easy for me. Since getting off the plane at Heathrow I've been showered with your sentiments, good and otherwise and it's been brilliant.

Cheers to the Ants for the curry straight off the plane and for helpin me out. You have a beautiful baby and family Ants, never take them for granted and I hope you have a really good year. One love.

Met Tarik today and fuckin hell that was an explosion of energy too. Tal I love you man and will never let you down. There is no debt between us.

Got a full line up until the end of the week and Slutty (not Cez, housemate Slut) I have your present here but don't want to send it as it will get broken in the post.

DC - I may see you again soon

Pete - Good luck bro. Send me an original Shaolin postie and you can keep the bag with my love.
Hell it's good to be back!

The new year is normally a time for reflection on the past year and for getting massively pissed. As you know, I don't do a vast amount of the later but I do do a hell of a lot of the former, so rather than go out tonight I thought I'd stay in and reflect on what exactly it is I done this year, cos it has really been quite a blur.

Having kept a big phat diary for the USA, I think enough reflection has been done there, so I thought I'd spend a bit more time thinkin about the 3 months between graduating and leaving the country. And I decided to check my old e-mail stash to put together the definitive back-dated diary of my summer exploits, which I've decided to post up on my website www.hoang.co.uk in the news section.

It's called Summer of Mayhem. As well as that little monster, I've completely updated my website to include all the photos I could find on the web of fun and games that I've been up to and all the older bits I've written.

Enjoy...