Peter Doherty Writings
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See also: The Books of Albion: The Collected Writings of Peter Doherty
[edit] Undated
(Please help identify dates and sources - Ed.)
[edit] 'Ask a Stupid Question'
Someone on or above the earth, tell me why on earth, does she beg of love at the feet of men who snatch hers from her, selling it on to themselves at a profit that can’t possibly reflect its worth.
This is always ungentle robbery, is not a plot of lust, because she is very conscious of her select few lovers, particularly in relation to her gains, to her own sexual harvest.
The answer, in vague and uncertain terms, lies somewhere in the shaded area shaped quadrangle by the lines that don’t quite connect the picture of a father, the part of her soul that freezes at the touch of warmth, the tattered feminist beginners handbook, the lampshade and the bloody gate that she gazes at monthly, that she once made me taste, that stains her desire for progress.
But desire tarnished; twisted, perverse desire, does not have any implications for the progress itself. And so, progressively, her questions become more stupid. Hand in the fire stupid, eating broken glass stupid, forgetting that you don’t like pain stupid. Stupid then and stupid when, on a terribly, dreadly sunny day comes the most ridiculous, nauseous, frustratingly stupid question of them all.
On the wall hight above the graffiti of all the things I could never bring myself to say, she turned to me just as the sun turned away and (thinking, in her stupidity, that it couldn’t see or hear us) asked: ‘Will you love me forever?’
‘Of course not’, I said.
[This appears on pages 2-3 of the Poems Question volume of the Books of Albion [1] [2] ]
[edit] The Continuing Adventures of Spaniel O’Spaniel (Part II, at the careers office)
In his passion, only a passion for life, he would, with deliberation, get the words wrong.
“I don’t,” - when he did.
“I will,” - when he clearly won’t.
The careers officer, a plumping cheerless soul and a superb liar in his own right surveyed the sorry specimen before him. This murky eyed bundle of hair and shabby blue shirt. Mr Egg breathed a sigh of despair.
“So Spaniel, What are your interests or hobbies?”
“My hobbies sir? Here: I am quiet and lonesome and full of heavy mercury, industrial melancholy. I have patience without insight, without care for coherence. I make music in my head and wish that I were dead.”
The careers officer, Mr Egg, nodded with false wisdom, discarded the Territorial Army brochures and gazed with intent at the top of Spaniel O’Spaniels head.
“Is there anything you want from life?”
(Dangerous question, Mr Egg)
“The answer to that, sir, is that I want death on the stairs.”
Laughter billowed out at a most unusual frequency, shocking the small office.
“When? When do you want death on the stairs?”
“When?” came a call back, “The same time as all the fuckin' others – when I’ve been down in Albion in a Hackney Cabriolet. When all my domesticated heroes have died, when I have lied to all my loved ones. When I’ve become immune to my own instincts, when I’m so much in debt I smash up telephone boxes and little old people in order to keep up my periodical subscriptions, and Jack McNasty, North-West London’s most blood thirsty black-hearted loan shark runs away form me in pity and fear. When I lie between cold stone walls breathing gaseous fag ash, alone with the dust mites in this piteous vision. When the night is worlds away from the day.”
A pause. Mr Egg, the careers officer twirled his finger round a rubber plant leaf. Spaniel stands in crescendo:
“When I know for a fact the days in the sun were allusions, when I see the tears and tears in my proud fathers coat, when my savious, my lord, the oe who promise me life is drinking in Stepney with his soon to b wife. Then, sure and McFuckerty, its time for death on the stairs.”
[This appears on pages 4-6 the Poems Question volume of the Books of Albion [3] [4] [5] . It was also published in 2004 in the east London art 'zine Full Moon Empty Sports Bag according to an article by Roy Wilkinson in Mojo [6]]
[edit] Madame Fanny Perrier
Saw himself as a Poppy leaf - a troublesome one if he was, pouting with a very certain ease, his spangly legs scarred tight with steel and fashion - his glorious and local.
Issues don't concern him - he grinds away at the state on rare occasions, but still with the lust of libertine he allows the free clenched hand of the market to fist him ceremoniously.
Smiling of course, - writing delightfully with his injury on the velvet wasteland of his glossy imagination.
This father ( an unemployed miner, who would sit at home with his helmet on, waiting for the pit to re-open ) threw him out on his fifteenth birthday, calling him an obscene little shitter.
Since that day he has gathered up the effect of his desperately short-lived and poison livered youth, strapped them up in leather ropes and thrown them into a bath full of bubbling pink acid.
He has projects of course, this last splashed some of milk in the parlours of the trilby crowd - the self-styled dreamers down Pimlico way, selling schemes and futures to the little darlings, shuffling up the dark aisles, away from the silver screams, towards the dollars. "the clowns that they were."
He said "Proffering their plastic crowns, throwing their paper around"
He came down, and down, and left that part of town, rode a stolen scooter back to death farm and layed another egg.
Performance poetry and inflatable porn.
I tried to talk him out of it, but he'd cut me off - answering only in French.
Hitched another free ride (this time in the bosom of jade - that sophisticated mistress) and pranced off to Paris, changing his name to Madame Fanny Perrier.
[This appears on pages 8-9 of the Poems Question volume of the Books of Albion [7] [8] ]
[edit] Bowhemia
What is it?
It’s bow’s orange sunset spring,
That quick step groove down the Grove Road,
It’s the blue smoke glamour of crack slab urban bohemia,
The richest man alive doesn’t have a penny,
And I’m looking to cash in on his wisdom,
Looking out for the wise in his eyes and the ice in his next drink,
And his next drink,
And his next drink,
And his next drink,
I watch the world, its tower blocks headbutting the skyline,
So stitch that,
That slit in the sky like a knife gash, and a fallen sixties leather jacket,
The tenements so unlovely and kitsch,
And the people rolling on in our colours and classes, classes and colours,
The beats of New London,
Twisted by the bitter rhythm of the wrong education,
In the big schools,
On the bigger grey gothic, pink plastic flower estates,
Twizzling our biros and cashing our giros,
And it’s tupence for your philosophy,
And tupence for your dreams,
Fair ye unwell on the welfare,
And the state is a fair man-made maid,
It understands the sweet sickly pleasure of melancholy,
The malign happiness of the horrors,
Lick die happiness of the horrors,
Delights in the mystery of it’s own misery,
A modern love,
So here we are,
The fucked generation,
At the fag-end of the 20th century A.D.,
Young and still breathing,
But now it’s a trial,
Cause we tried it all and we’re tired by it all,
Too much, too young, too often, too many times,
And it’s too late,
But we’re not surrendering though,
Fuck no we’re not,
We’re on the offensive,
On all fours in the puddles of No Man’s Land,
And in that manner we move to the rhythms of ice cream vans playing ‘oranges and lemons’,
And police sirens spinning and waking their mythical wails,
Calling us to ourselves,
Opium for the elite,
Yeah, and there’s his illegitimate brother,
Inexpensively smacking the kids of Stepney, at a cost,
So let’s step out now, you and I,
Let’s go now and stay a while,
Underneath the sun,
A council street lamp left on in the middle of the day,
Tussling with gravity, branding skin,
And it will tussle and brand, tussle and brand until it explodes.
Tussle and brand until the sun explodes.
[edit] Bath Water
Having to share bath water
In the north of England
Is a common occurrence
Between families on the
Breadline, also it can be danger-
ous. E.g.
After taking longer than I
Should, my mother asked for
The last time for me to get out
Of the bath, she was late for
Work.
I jumped out hoping she
Wouldn’t notice the sperm I’d
Tried to hide under a blanket
Of bubble bath, well, I was a
Teenager.
Six weeks later my mum
Announced she was with child
Which surprised my father ‘cos
The old man had not been
Near mother since late 71.
8 months later a baby
With a strawberry birthmark,
Six fingers on each hand, and an
Also bore and uncanny likeness
To moi.
Of course this accidental
Inbreeding incident is the
Tory governments fault for
Killin’ my dads jib
As a minor, in 84. After that
We couldn’t afford to have to have
The water boiler on more than
Once a day.
[edit] Cannot?
A cranky cracked guitar rattles out
the melodies and lowlitdawn upon a
soul lost all at sea and yet a
lighthouse or is it a siren's mist
masked hypnotic is the melody my
misplaces and merry-go-round-like
adoration for her.. though it is she,
the same, who may have my head
dashed against the rocks.
who are you/won't you giz a kiss? are
my shanty or sighs heavy as the
mourning for long lost nights in
arcady's waking dreams that is this life
stone me what a life
[edit] May 10 1997: NME Letters Page
About your Manics article (NME April 19). Mr Wells knows the Manics are middlebrow and they probably always have been. Kafka, Camus and Proust sit snugly on shelves in assorted bedrooms around England, but if their owners were led to them by the inside of a CD cover, the true motivation stretches as far as the need to drop an esoteric title into a conversation in the common room. I know, I have to listen - and I have to clear up the mess. You can take a sixth-former to a Penguin Modern Classic but you can't make him think.
The Marxists, Situationalists, pseudo-bisexual-BAD POETS avec eyeliner, pseudo-leopardskin BAD POETS sans eyeliner and the rest of the Cult of Nothing should accept, for the last time, that with Richey went all feeble hopes of purity and guitars and profound graffiti.
Don't hold it against the lads - they want to do it. They are comfy. And they know that there is more chance of social equality through conformity than through locking yourself in a hotel bathroom and shitting in your purse. Besides which the middlebrow ethos is far more revolutionary than the self-conscious political seriousness school of thought.
Peter Doherty, Somewhere Rather Lonely.
P.S. That's the final word on the Manics. Forever. So all fanzines must stop. Let it be known.
[This 1997 letter by Doherty was reprinted in the January 29 2005 NME article "Richey Remembered" according to a transcription of the 2005 article posted on www.richeyedwards.net [9]]
[edit] June 16 2002
[10]
ready to go now... carlos blinded by hair on his all white bed spreadeagle like a born again lustful jesusir he is as ever a elegant and sweet bawd of romantic notion and thoughts too fast for the tongue raising precious stakes and splintering. we passed each other on the stairs in princelet street. he and a beautiful procession of k-fairies and laughter. me with a cigarette and a loopy qon had to carry her away some point this morning through the rain up brick lane over the railway bridge, stopping off in the park in spitalfields to sit on the swings and defend myself against accusations of social backwardness. what depths of trust are bailed. or seeing all them dancing in dodger morton's old front room stretched out to conceal. accusative looks of spite and pity from the brigade. i knew the clatter door fucked, and no electricity. candles on the marble and we bathe each other in arcadia's favourite bathroom and stretch out with whisky all clean and soft before the fire. No jagged edges there, none of the cut throat spine coiled terse london smile. only the rain on our naked shoulders as we peer out onto faded lit street in the heavenly dawn trailer. i love that place, just there. and all rest for her and i. until awoken we were at 7 or so by the bawd's bird falling down the spiral staircase back into unrest single mattress on a double bed.
on your day soon when you sit and read through recent postings pigman - read this and weep for that ragged lad death on the stairs and looky for he.
ah well. in 2 days the libertines record their second single 'up the bracket'/'the boys in the band' + one. all i can think of. i live 2 minutes away, there's no lock on the door. why am I here then? you know why. it's close enough, I'm obsessed to the point of needing to know everything. all of you. I'll pretend to be you because you won't log on. you never even used the internet until you knew you could press a button and see a picture of yourself, and now you're even afeared to read ANYTHING that might interfere with the 'peace' you crave. For a peaceful man you are extremely volatile. In fact, your peace comes only after conflict, til it fades and needs re-touching with further conflict. Is that what you do - what I saw in London? it's amazing. but are you going to do when everything comes out? When the kids hear 'bucket shop' and 'music when the lights go out' are they considered Libertines songs or not? There's further questions that I shall ask elsewhere but for now - you're not a bad sort. I quite love you.
[edit] August 19 2002, 1:37 PM
spectrums: sonic summer! [11]
'don't tell anyone' sheets widereyes who couldn't hear here
The series of suggestions for ways to record our experiences, memories, our dreams, as keys to an understanding of our lives.
No one in this era of chaos and confusion, will question the value of bringing a whole person to the collective life.
Many persons have already had experience in which they sensed the presence of an underlying reality in life, a r e a l i t y which they have recognized as a personal source of meaning and strength.
The essence lies not in the events of his life in themselves, not in the things that even happened to him, but in his inner relationship to those events.
One cannot help but be amazed by what emerges from this skillful inner journey. All the elements we attibute to the poet, the artist, BECOME AVAILABLE TO EVERYONE IN ALL LEVELS OF SOCIETY.
Look its quick and must remember. Gary's voice shot to grainy sweet and raw streets computer fucked up so they did stand
by me south london boy with dreads following the bass as the crowds walked away. Autograph sessions with mutual applause and mad halls full of writhing bodies screaming for mayday on the stacks stage dive the sea parts and my elbow curses me Carlos can't take his shirt off quick enough and John has seventeen starry eyed chickens following him up and down neon streets it seems we never sleep 'fuckin Mortal man' becomes the battle cry interview look at those hard geordie bastards its 'the wildhearts'! Who years ago came around to steve's and drank us dry. One of them remembers. The geezer from the streets singing new songs about my gaffer tape and whiskey as my true love and I don't understand a word the other says. Miki! what a beautiful baby it will be. William Burroughs who i thought was dead, is climbing the steps to the temp[le, shivers, they find four bodies here a week. they find our bodies here a week ago. Snoozer magazine, questions questions too many. never enough
Bani stealing crystal bottles of brandy from 'gentlemens' club. the lights were out in our time and we're running down the road. Ah she's great
Bani burst into tears as Morrissey ended his set with 'there is a light that never goes out'. Humid rain neon shadows, glimpsing eternity across the wing of a plane, now there's a long shadow coming across the horizon under that shdow iron in the fire orange strip, blurred golden masking tape around everybody's ripped dreams and the rim of the sky.
Now it has become lava, clouded all furnaced.
What will happen? How far is the end? Sky is tracked now all yellow her skirt lightening up and dark again. There can be no night or day now.
Engaged in the task of peeling off the false selves, the programmed selves, the selves created by previous selves, family, our culture or religion, enemies
Violette Leduc. Well now. I've been knocking off letters to all.
"Why did you have to?", having called me every name under the [rising] sun. Slept on the week. and my sweetheart unsupposed but recently naturally (nightly) away away & she's fucking others anyway. Fuck! It's a fucked up fuck affair this love affair..
Anyway on terms that one might describe as wonderful with both i'm sure after the furore if there is indeed such a word. haven't written letters for a while, i forgot the gentle childlike exchange of affection. Must get into the habit of it, got into so many others recently... ah.
Kindly do not attempt to cloud the issue with facts.
Mournful warnings from John, but Jonny got the wrong James and it's alright. Surely?
Crown revelations as the symbol on the t-shirt matched the etching on the little pill matched the chess piece. Curioser and curioser. New songs - who threw that?
This team of hustlers and swells, spies like us. sonic summer.
hotel lobby full of giggles, you could sell a million and still wander about aimlessly. internet popes, more bodies found.
Down the palate to tap : Nabakov, poached egg and [j]
apple snapple!
bitten in my room i can't leave how shy and sweet and merry pearl & umbra Tokyo:Fuckin Mortal!
I look at your photograph and how
[edit] September 12 2002, 3:52 PM
Horroshow [12]
While I'm here I may aswell clear up this en.em.y horrorshow nonsense. It was only the first line that was found on a scrap of paper underneath the grate of the fire. I'm only concerned about this because people keep saying that Francesca wrote all the lyrics but it was
'I've been following your minds instructions on how to screw myself to death'
and that line alone. so.
[edit] September 27 2002, 6:22 AM
kick your heels in the killing fields [13]
it is a beautiful morning in kings cross my friend and I stroll 1/3 alive, (amwell village alive knowing eyes or whole faces in smiles wish each other goodmorning really saying i love you or so) can just about touch the elbow of the boy i was one hour ago when writing the below, but will anyway
how it fucked itself, the aside, the
genie not like the thief of Bagdahds, much more less of male, cornered all confidence
i was turning on a sixpence
you showed me a jackpot idea
& foolish instinct scooped a winningday
now i wanna close off the risk of delusion
in the prison locked to the d e s i r e
it's normally the other way around here
chased myself down want to touch your elbow &
give you this libertine forever
actually, on the subject of Libertines anyone who logs in as p.d or peterdoher.., is not me, only heavyhorse is me from now.
[edit] 6:23 AM
i've got a bad head injury thanks to that *&^%$£ lisa moorish. talk about bottling it.
[edit] 7:14 PM
Fortress tonight
What I was doing was strolling in awe of suspect with the wolfman after a night to never remember without... ooooo
we stumbled offstage in Peterbrough into a car that the shuperglass sent up (black windows too) one hour later stepped out in the west end into a 'society debut' baccanalian revelrie and straight onstage to play a mad 'Don't lose it' If I was a name dropper....
my whole past life caught up on me and I spent the whole night shifting from glass-eyed glee to being savagely attacked by supposedly wronged uns. Gary saved me from ninjas and I ended up just at dawn's ankle stepping up the tenement steps to the wolfden wherein the grip of calm shook me by the lapels. We're now at Fortress studios in old street doing a live radio show. Begging, Bracket, Get along coin- tosser. Carlos is in his inspector clueso coat and hasn't slept since Bournemouth and is all the better for it. John has done his back in carrying his drunken girlfriend home and Gary is lovely.
x
[edit] October 1 2002, 3:01 PM
hmm a little harsh [14]
so beastly to call me boasting. How can it be this.It's not woman obsessed over me, it's always a mutual obsession, only mine doesn't spill over in public into a desire to have posession... complete reliance on them for happiness and a spectacular almost bullying public explosion of regret remorse and redistribution shall we say of emotion and beverage alike. So then, also hype and stuff - things are much easier and calmer now than before libertines ever reared heads out of our little warren. So 'whoever' you are please don't be so twisted preumptious and wrong will ya not
[edit] October 19 2002, 11:08 AM
Luuucy. Plan A, the BBC, chicken punks and God save Mr Finnegan.. [15]
and all alike. Hiya Lucy, listen right, Supergerass Bristol & Birmingham gigs are cancelled for us the famous Libertines because.. we're doing Jools Holland show. Aaah.. so your travel log thing could be scuppered unless you want to do two days in London and we'll have a right old knees up. They've requested Boys in the Band plus one other and Mick Jones is gonna be on it too. Pho0ne me and let me know.
All is well aboard the albion, supergrass are genuine, beautiful. most of their fans are alright too. We've shortened our set for the suport slot, but before the next albion tour our whole live show will have stepped up a gear: wide open. Anyways
[edit] October 21 2002, 7:51 PM
Hiya |Chrissie [16]
I was worried about speaking to you after everything, that whole interview was a disgrace and I said to Carl 'will your mum be alright, she'll kill me' he said 'she won't kill you she just won't like you anymore'. Yes he has lost his phone but it should turn up maybe in the van's mess. I'll see him in a bit and tell him to call you. xpeter
[edit] 7:53 PM
southampton will be fine aswell and your on the the list
[edit] November 7 2002, 1:27 PM
Love from Paris.... [17]
Wotcha, as noone but le hand gauche says these days. The Libertines are in bright, cold Paris. Sadly for one more day only but enough time for the pigmen to peruse le pigalle and seek adventure in this (so honestly) beautiful, beautiful sprawl of char, charm, the rudest of rude boys, elongated gestures and monsieur croques with long coats and blue bottles.
So I sat in a pile of purple and brown leaves reading our interview in 'Liberation'. Well, Carlos claimed to be translating it, reckoning he is fluent. All our interviewers look at him aghast as he fingers them closer and talks French. He cracks me up so much I couldn't stop laughing last night I had to leave..Weve always had a thing about this place ever since we first met and he played me one of his earliest known compositions which I added a verse to. It was called 'France' and was about a Gallic sort he had met called Solèn. He broke her heart as was usual. I remember he lived above a furniture shop in Mortlake with a different Peter and he sit by the fire watching David Niven films staring at the abundance of lovelorn letters she sent him wondering how he could never write back: scrawling heartbloody replies and casting them into the flames.
Funds are low but spirits high. Now that the philistines have taken over Filthy's and Bill Bones has renounced the guitar London pushes us away for a month. Paris, Rotterdam, Amsterdam and on to Italy, Spain and America. What will come of us all? I smile to think, and shudder, peeping mute into the core. Porte de Sevres, two tone traffic markings a grid across the junction. Stream in the gutter carrying all in rain & sogged leaves.
The Plastic Bag Sensation are currently working on their debut, ie learning to play their instruments. They are three from York or thereabouts and live in a caravan. They are not groupies I'll have you know (god knows I tried). They recently starred in my latest Albion instellation which consisited of them all being asleep under canopies of white cotton in the wolf chamber, passers by would come into the room, go 'aaah..' and leave. It was of course a sensation.. until Finley Quaye passed by and tried to eat them.
Tonight we play.
Now I must go to the school of these French chicken punks and smoke cigarettes and gesture some more. Le pigman sleeps. The rhythm section weeps. Bonne champignon mes petite pois.
[edit] November 14 2002, 4:17 PM
Europe the Bracketour [18]
Hello to all from Frankfurt's überscnitzel underworld, where the turkish kids wear big white trainers with thick looped laces and the matted dogs with their begging masters army jackets flute.
Things have shifted a gear since Hamburg, where the Reeperbahn sold carlos a flick knife and balaclava amongst other things. 'Herr Flick' is now Carlos' new conscience and will be the death of us all.
Gigs have been sublime and warped angular Carlos' guitar amp has blown up a few times which gives me time to do the ha ha wall while he scratches his head and stomps his feet.
The bus has been home to stowaways and we are all doing our best to embrace the pan-european arcadian ideals of pagan shuffles, lunar adherence and drinking from the same bottle. Berlin was a grand affair, matched only by the Parisians for revelry. I even bumped into Ryan Oshea and his new wife... and Jennifer - the Mariannetoinette look a like who once lived at Charles Rowan House, WC1, where I recently took a room. She took me on a journey into Berlins unterwelt where we ended after cockahooptails kicking leaves or so or was it around a table in the carpark with all strangers sharing the bottle and clumsily did I ask for a kiss. To be met by a slobber of cold whiskers from Güstav the porky mod.
Not so for the pigman whos smoother cheeked accomplices in love have pathed the way from Amsterdam, to Barcelona and back. Perhaps I'll end my days in Hamburg, in a small room above a coffee house a stones throw from the palace of love. There were two sharp eyed sorts who ventured from Poland to see us in Berlin, I think Bani got the wrong idea though when she dragged them aside and said they should start a Polish 'fan club'
The Bismark joke has been keeping us sane during all the interviews. The response by the way, to the sounding of the dead chancellor's name,is: 'That's your dad so it is you fuckingbastard that ye are' in a thick Belfast accent...
Guten abend, meine lieblings schnitzellen
[edit] November 23 2002, 8:05 PM
Europe the Bracket [19]
twofus ridin nowhere spending someones... Chrissy if you read this I told Carlos to call you and he said 'Albion Mums magraw' and vows to soon. Ah, that kid loves his mamma. And his flick knife. and half of the birds from our foreign record comp... ah ah ah!
Tonight we play Bologna, the last leg of the Italian leg of the lamb of arcady that we returned to pasture after so long hemmed in like a crashing boar between archers and lemonade. Things are as you might well imagine, blooming and exceptionally tasteful.
Not for us scathing and witless british hacks, but genuinely amused and tantalizede foreign scribes, chefs, dancing dogs with collars, signorina scholars, with heartful of glad that the libertines come and grace their funfairs, park benches, tabbachis and magazine covers. All bangledawn raids on the open road and hostile/ warming receptions from our chicken punk allies across the thundering ocean of the channelled water so the Romans clobberred some poor ancient briton probably round about where the tate modern stands today. Once a forest deep and dark, chopped down and sold off by a coppers nark.
There is a lot of confusion and what not surrounding us. John was innocently making use of the toilette, whistling the coral and splashing his boots, when a greasy w** thrust his face into Mr Lombard's (jon) and said 'Heeey Leeeberteen..' then squashed one of his own nostrils down with a long thin hairy finger, brackle style and made a huge sniffing noise with the remaining hole in his hideous great hooter, 'you want some coke hey? coke hey?' His latin eyes bursting with darkness. 'No ta', said Mr Lombard. The sp** looked all confused and rejected and went out muttering 'But I thoguht he was a Leebertine'
Tomorrow we are off to spain with a band from liddypul called los Banditos - a fine name for a gang of scousers if ever there was one. Gary concerns me. The other night we were about to launch into a death on the stairs and he looked at me bewildered and said 'I've forgotten how to play the drums'. He wasn't joking and we had to wait a few minutes while he sat with his head between his knees. It was only when Carl volunteered to play that Signor Powell perked up.
Sdly we have a caualty. Gladys, my trusted brown epiphone copped for it in Milan, as she came splintering down on the stage to jeers and cheers I thought only of . How juvenile and i got an electric shock and can't remember anything, but came around after apparently having played the gig to see James Endicott of eternity fame gesturing to a room full of feet-models, hermaphrodites, mopers ands journalists since revolution and tanks come, my brothers have gameboy, you like?'
so many wonderful people, even people from years ago in london shops and squats who appear before us in the crowd like ancient ghosts and smile and look confused and delighted as we riot through the set. The last time they saw us we had an oap drummer and only the good old days and radio america remain. In the case of Linda Burton the last time we met she lived by Brick Lane before there was as single retro boutique which should tell you how long that was. Fuck me it was five years, and that was before we were even the Libertines. Carl and I used to sleep under her stairs and sing to her in return for bread and cigarettes.
Tell the King made its live debut in Switzerland last week, to great acclaim at a marvellous gig at a truck stop. People are I think confused by our openess after gigs, but we've had many a belting nights communion as I'm sure you can imagine. remember the old adage that interview I've ever done but no-one deems fit to print:
'I wanna be adored, I wanna hold your hand, I wanna be your dog'
more optimistic than 'where's the old batallion? - hanging on the old barbed wire' si?
without more or less knowledge having by my eyes, through occult virtue that from her proceeded. Turn the cone of real light to the bright depth of this art as it calls itself temporarily. or in two gigs time my serious eyes will send you to the useless limbo of Pagan poets...and then you won't be able to go to hell anymore
keep the home fires burning..
keep the home fires burning faithful elves of arcady
we'll meet again
Peter x
[edit] 8:29 PM
it's all been intercepted and now you can't read it.. what happenned to our
[edit] November 26 2002, 8:47 AM
Europe the Bracket; 2 day old Libertine can´t sleep [20]
Ola
I´m told not to be too wise coming here all the time, but... if anyone´ll understand you will. Everyone´s asleep, I think they all went to see suede last night.
I wanna tell you I wanna say...
Barcelona is perhaps the most outrageously divine place I ever did set foot it, it´s like reading The Passion of New Eve, in black and white in your heart. How wonderful to be here. It turns out I have a cousin here, a Mr Adam Wheeler of QPR loyalty.. he will come to the gig tonight at a place called Razzamataz (after the pulpe song). If you happen to read this and are in Barcelona there is a spare place on the door +1 under the name of Billy Bilo.
It is a bright sunny morning so...
[edit] November 29 2002, 3:06 PM
Europthebracketourpart11: nme nose up inValencia,more theft, and micesurprise for biggles [21]
Wellwe find ourselves in Madrid and sleep deprivation contracts our drivel. Ah well. We are supposed to be filming the video for time for heroes today, with the bandits. Last night the director asked carl what he required by way of props and in his stupor he said ´some spanish girls in my shower´ he was genuinely surprised this morning when a camera crew and three girls appeared before him. I was too shy because all the sally Cinnamon girls were there too but be prepared for a saucel shots of Biggles in the bath with his new entourage. so much for a sympathetical, poignant collage with me lip synching the all the prfundity. more like humpty dumpty for hisnibs and a quick shot of me slipping down some stairs. they were stylish kids mind. no sell out.
sorry all these posts seem to be about carlos and birds, but I don´t know whether to drag you right in to all this plan a business. I will say that the Bandits are boss though. ´the warning´
i think banny and carl are scared ofbeing caught out with the tide get back its back to shepherds bush and recordhe stuff we´ve written this yearm, which will include ´all at sea´and black boy lane´2 of new favourites.
[edit] January 27 2003, 5:47 PM
Re: Albionay [22]
(In response to Carl:)
Cher Biggles,
I can't pretend to know what you mean entirely but I get the jist and that. Ah, my phone does not work outside of France but I return tomorrow with a journal full of dreams and albionay at heart. Many adventures to relate: the mouse says I lack the charm of yesteryear and my life is a soap opera.
How sad. It's like when the fella from the Coral said we just wanted to be the Stones. I don't even like the stones and anyway I don't watch soap operas.
I think she is cut up about the babby... but I have to be true now. XXXXalps
[edit] January 31 2003, 9:07 AM
Re: boggled? [23]
WotchaBiggles
I only undertook to call after the mystery became too much to bear for what I thought was this mine an innocent curious soul. The depths of darkness and confusion...
I've been up at all dawns climbing and winding down the - well it's true - cobbled streets of dear Montmartre, who does yield you know..
Reading childrens books and singing songs all day to my pin and mounted beetles, ashtrays and splendid old doll set you must see. I also have a special normal sized metal biroo pen which the back comes off and is a knife. I keep listening to 'Bring it on down' and 'Janie Jones'. It's so sweet when MIck does a little American teenager 'woo'oo'oooh'. Do you remember that song 'I've got a crush on you?' Perhaps a pigman special splice is nigh.
Funds are low and there is no heating, but this cheap moonshine liquor fuels the cooker and slugged in dregs keeps my bones rattling slow enough to concentrate more on the shadow.
Be strong my dear and I shall see you on sunday for a drink to drunk the druidy druids and perhaps a well-deserved lapse!
Your friend xx
[edit] 9:16 AM
Oh, also, I thought you were a little harsh on Tibley's poem. It's not as if, like Lady Chatterly, all truth becomes obscured by flatterry. Er, if you know what I mean.
Anyways, how do you think when I always get "Pete looks rough" "what a skaghead" "moonface" and "introspective scruffy two-bob freak" and it's always "Oh Carls so fit I'd love to suck 'is booner thrice a morning" or "Me old biddy wants to flick his ticket and wot not"
Well then.
p.s: It has been snowing in Paris
[edit] 11:14 AM
Time for Hereos dissected
The 'wombles' were a revolutionary sect from the era of the Mayday riots in the year 2000. They were rioters who all dressed up like wombles from the t.v series, including tinfoil shields and wobbly truncheons, mimicking the riot police. There were about 12 of them, but they had many enthusiastic disciples. That year the police managed to keep most people paralysed by rounding them up and forcing them to camp in Oxford Circus. The Wombles led a breakaway group through the backstreets of Soho, eventually, after a peaceful march, the police rounded us off at Shaftesbury Avenue and beat the shit out of us. I remember the front cover of the Daily Record the next day (a scottish newspaper): carnage and brackets upped. I remember also after that first clash with the wombles running up new Oxford Street, they were stripping off their disguises as they legged it for dear life, blending into the crowd as Uncle Bavaria's head rolled into the gutter. A very odd site for me, and was I , Taliban scarf flapping in the wind, the whole city distorted by liquid LSD dropped in my mouth by a now 'naked' Womble. Then began the famous 'battle of Roseberry Avenue', wherein our attempts to reach the city's Financial district were scupperred by a well up for it troop of crack riot police who splatterred our rapidly thinning- out group of tripping ne'er do wells all over clerkenwell.
[edit] April 8 2003, 3:38 PM
bilo [24]
yeah what?@—p˜pt‚Æyou want to read this papple you must be mad. I disgusted by myself, Life as a libertine@Its all ona plate? right but not peace in my heart so am I just gonna go round the world getting fuckied up fucking loads of birds smashing up the joint all over the show
fuck it. The only place that makes any sense is in What a waster or Babyshambles or alone witha guitar. I
and what gck‚¶‚å‚Ë‚“ fucked up my songs, I let ‚©‚’‚§‚“ sing them fuck you all you pussies who sit back selfpreening don`T criticize what you can never understand.
by‚Ä‚¥—Öy‚Ä‚¥é°g—Ös“òlg‚Æ‚Éght|‚Ä‚¥”w‚¶‚á‚ÏQ‚¹‚«dsr‚êby the way the gig was amazing 5tonight I`m so stunned these japanese kids are something else, now its@all...
[edit] 3:42 PM
ah im trapped in this fucking place, someone help@me please I`m all at sea and what`S the matter with me? hmm? you cunts I`m a violent twisted fucked up vain greedy fucking junky and what about yourself?
[edit] 3:43 PM
an you tabitha you edged out fuck it I`m not afraid to cry or die and I`ll
[edit] 3:46 PM
what are you talking about? is that sara felina - you`re a fucked up pompous selfpreening psychotic old slapper if ever there was one freaking me out when I`m with my friends and spreading your vacous gaze across my innocent outlook
[edit] 3:48 PM
and what do you mean having a mad half hour? you think we sing songs about despair and emptiness and hatred and violence and mythology for a fucking joke? or for your money? come here, come close, look closely, listen, listen very closely
[edit] 3:49 PM
sorry Sarah, ow silly i must seem
[edit] 3:51 PM
mmm... can someone please call Lucy and tell her to wipe all this?
[edit] 3:52 PM
chin up? nice and high so you can kick me in the fucking face
[edit] 3:55 PM
i miss london
i love it here
i miss london
im so happy
i`m all at sea
im crying
im so fucking delerious
[edit] 3:57 PM
before its all wiped i`ll tell you this, we all staged dived tonight even fucking Bani youknow warrimean how fucking amazing is it?
look right, I`ve got a baby boy coming in july, rough trade hate me where`s my bone?
[edit] 4:01 PM
1997 I remember sitting on top of a tower block in bow and carl had that look in his eye he seized me screaming we should throw ourselves off together I had to knock him out and drag him down,
"there's nothing in this world for us" he'd say, "let's shoot each other."
"lets shoot this shit up at the same time an drown in all eternity"
no carl, it'll be grand, lets keep going
i love you I love you so much
lets keep going
"yeah lets keep going forever peter, til the very end"
yeah til the end
[edit] 4:03 PM
whatcha gonna do about it
watcha gonna do
watcha gonna do about it
teenage boy raped
[edit] 4:10 PM
emily what do you mean? undermine your fans? you`re fans of a band right? well so am I. So who undermines who, I dont tell you what to do do I? why would I?@Did—pŒê‚Æ‚ s‚½‚Ä‚“’˜”ölH did you go to a shitty state school? does you`re granny live in a council flat? do you like the smiths? what does it metter? matters fuck all the past.
yes
yes
yes
this is a forum for expression no? well who`s feelings are these
theyre mine not yours and if it leaves you cold then imagine how i feel reading it back. im boiling up and there`S no outlet
[edit] 4:13 PM
oh anna
you`ve got me all welled up in the dark
what do you mean fall.....
[edit] 4:19 PM
yeah mate
barrell of fucking laughs you know
luxury hotels
girls and boys and booze and far eastern concoctions on tap
per diems
autograph queues
see yourself looking handsome on a magazine
quoted saying something charming and witty
and insightful
someone to tune your guitars
ancient temples, mountains for all eternity, respect, devotion, love...
crippled
[edit] 4:28 PM
Helene, maybe to me and maybe to you. But what about the devil. I know evil is positive, it highlights the goodness and the beauty.. but have you ever had to kill? Have you ever had your baby strangled or blown up? ripped off? Raped?
Raged madly against the night
a deathly insight into the high midnight heavens
recruit the weak the well meaning and the pathetic and subside...
[edit] 4:36 PM
yaeh right, i don`T know why I`m here saying all this but then, perhaps I do there`s a point crossed now
many wrongs that can never be touched over
tucked away
I need to sleep now
goodnight, sorry thankyou ah.....did you see the
Peter x
[edit] 4:39 PM
godbless lots of love, thankyou for all
xxxx
actually lucy maybe not to wipel, couold be a lesson for the morrow
[edit] April 9 2003, 6:25 AM
Bilo`S redemption, and Dont Look back into the [land of the rising] sun, parts three and f [25]
On the bullet train to Osaka, the pigman and I lean back and eye the paddy fields, hidden temples, mountains and flatlands of little cities.
There is a grand pile of gifts.. fans meet us and greet us at every train station departure and arrival, and are in the lobbies of hotels when you come and go.
Stickers, lollipops, scarves, books, a Jaws poster for John. We cuddle them and sing on the platforms. Carlos dancing with an umbrella and piggybacks.
`So what happenned to you last night after the meal. You wre a bit fucked no?`
`Er .. I wandered about a bit. I posted something on dot org, it was a little odd I think, I went off on one. Causeda stir. Was akin to therapy or something`
`I don`t want to know. You should have stayed with us. We ended up in this weird bar with geisha girl gangsta and instruments, we were playing all night. I was on double bass`
`Ah.. that sounds good`
I show him my writings from the night before on hotel headed notepaper. He keeps it for his files. `Not bad, piggle` he says `although some of it has the air of gloomy alone in a hotel. The rage of caliban seeing his face in the glass. You know you`ve made it when you have an oriental Brahma walking up and down your back old pal.` Cackles.
The Ana Hotel, Osaka is beyond your wildest dreams. Our rooms are all on the 24th floor and looking out of the window.. mad max in a patchwork napoleonic scaped wonder tin roofs rusty in the slow rain and multicolourd fractions of sky to scrape. Soft beds, vintage whisky minitures and green tea...
I shall into the city afore the giggle.
[edit] 6:59 AM
thankyou, doctor.
[edit] 7:32 AM
(On "Plan A":)
no. it just came out one night all in one go, Carlos` riff and sinister things
[edit] April 10 2003, 12:03 AM
Don`t look back into the [land of the rising] sun part five
rotating door into the Ana Hotel lobby, 7.20am and a a night of grand adventure aboard the oriental Albion. The morning light is lazy, filtering from the nearby mountains a sweet fragrance of plum blossom and what locals call the `whores breath` of the woodchickery wind and the chichinoki [Ginkgo tree - which survived the ice age..a living fossil, baby].
On Midosuji Boulevard, Gingko trees line the way, like dandies of the morning parade, they stagger before my eyes or its me.
In this, the city of rivers, the commerce of the infinite flows through the morning soul and sobriety approaches, flawing all consumption. Deity of the Ikune shrine, enshrined as an earth godin Kotsumamura village: bilo consumates immortality with the clip of a purloined snorkel and all greeting to the wicked low moon gaunt in the disappearing night.
Osaka`s `O` is combined with three circles, symbolizing hope, prosperity and harmony. Hmm.
Most of our gigs out here start at 7.00pm or so, which is oddly. Last time around we were playing 25 minutes to bawdy festival crowds alongside such western imports as the stleets and mollissey, this time round we`re storming through an hour or so to crowds echoing devotion and moshsweateld fracas not experienced here since a popular american hiphop act last year.
Carl got the humple a tad what with everyone screamong peeeter all through the set, but he soon cheered when `bapples yoki` made a beeline for him by the fountain. He was fair grinning from ear to ear.
cook your own meat on a little gauze at noki nuki don don`s and then we strolled through the osaka red light district all wild hair and oddly makeup, we duck into a curious little bar and the nicest maddest old git we christen mr miagi plies the pigman and i with vintage whisky whilst we clear the tiny wooden ship with our renditions on the piano and drums. Carl joins the resident band of japple jazzers for `Mack the Knife` and is quite put off when attention diverts to the bar where mr miagi is being strangled by the punter who`s girlfriend was erm, `requested` by the ever increasingly fucked mr miagi to be friendly to the stray libertines.
A man sings me a poem by the bridge `I miss the city so much my sleeves have rotted away as my tears disappear as dewdrops`
There are shrines here dedicated to ancient suicide pacts , the pharmeceutacal industry and tuelary gods. Sweet dreams Mr Miagi.
[edit] April 15 2003, 4:21 AM
Fox in the Hat, Wolfman, Babyshambles and suchlike [26]
Seeing as how my inbox is overloading with intrigue and stalks of confusion which may soon be shown to grow thorns I`d like to trim them up a little bit.
The so called fox in the hat is in fact a fine upstanding lass by the name of Jay, who I met five years ago at a Libertines gig at a disused pub called The Empress of Russia (near Saddlers Wells theatre, the pub has since been turned into a fish restaurant). Steve was living there at the time with assorted psychedelic types, and Carlos and I divided our time bewtween the empress and Daniel Edelsteins (remember him anyone?) in Cecilia Road, Dalston.
One night, in the splendid rotton rooms of the derelict mammoth building we did a gig (I remember a tangle haired young greek one day to become jonny from razorlight (or Jonny 2-step as left hand call him) appearing in a pair of night vision goggles and feather boa and bowler hat.
Jay (who is oft apt to be heard squealing `Bambino!` had a friend called Isabelle I remember and we all knocked about for a wee romantic while (a week or something) until Isabelle had John and Carlos in a young lads at locked antlers type pose and after one sordid night at Club Kitten, Marathon Bar, and Deptford (farah trouser photo special) we never saw each other again until very recently when Jay appeared at a grand debauch at the Albion Rooms.
Jay is so sweet and obsessed with ligloss, sparkly things and the myth of Peter Pan.
[edit] 4:49 AM: Wolfman
Peter Wolfe, Wolfman, Wolf, the son of god, Big Bilo, the skag and bone man, bloodclot weirdo - many are the titles of this most mysterious and intricate of London`s ever dickensian characters.
Handsome as the heaving morning, he thrice denied the wolfbone afore masked in the afterlife.
Out of interest and perhaps divine curiosity, you might be interested to note that the line
`superficially
you enjoy the company that you loathe to bear`
from The Delaney, was perloined from the Clerkenwell tenement Wolf Den, as it seemed to perfectly capture the dark and glorious social scenario that pervaded our mindsouls landscape during a certain type of time.
The wolfden was in a block off the ever mesmerising Merlin Street, more of which in the soon to be photocopied and flogged novella (Peter and the Wolf). In the future perhaps you will chance upon his poetry, in the meantime I have something he wrote in the new book of Albion just before we left for Japan Begin:
`once upon atime in a quiet desolate home just about a short distance from anywhere, Bilo stood, shaking - enhanced. ghosts of the mad and incarcerated trampled through a young mans finnial mainlined beauty and dream.
He remembered once then twice then callous dismembered the moment approaching. This only could one of himself allow, for the malice of afterthought and only powerful adversary contain the Bilo could agonies incredible promised or as safety disfigure them.
I watched awhile then approached the sullen prince of exhiliration. I asked him "How did we arrive here"
I cannot describe his look, and he turned away and drank from a glass made of stars. And replied.
"It`s just like you`re in another world, you can`t see the danger on show" I cried tears that turned to hail as they fell to the ground and shatterred into a million more. Bilo swore solemnity was the carcass of the autosexual god that was president of the panoramic unhappiness. I reached out to hold Bilo`s hand but he was made out of satanic vapours that could never return mortal emotion. He said
"Look at wolfy there huffing and puffing he`s becoming a miserician"
"Where"
"Here in my eyes"
I looked into them and saw of what could reasonably be alike to something I had dreamed but I couldn`t be sure
"Is that me"
"yes"
"why"
"He`s life to death and death to life"
"How"
"Fuck knows"
"Yes" Bilo sank into the cunts of a billion bilious whores. His voice echoing Across the universe.` End \
above all the cloak and dagger eating pigs and children the wolfman is the finest poet alive and has a deathly insight into the high midnight heavens.
Bilo x
p.s please noone log in anymore as bilo, it upsets so and I don`t ask for much.
[edit] 5:12 AM: Babyshambles
Babyshambles was supposed to be an alter ego of Bilo, but Carlos forbid its use as a stage name. He thinks its stupid like when I once had a lyric that read `its a charmed life to double as a poet for your favourite team` from time ago that still makes him cringe when he brings it up in drunken arguments like bile from the belly of the beast. Which is fair enough in hindsight but it was fine melody.
I normally write it across my chest in lipstick or blood, but sweat ruins it halfway through Horrorshow or so.
After recent wayward ventures I gathered a collection of many songs I have written alone over the years and in recent weeks and decamped to the Albion rooms with the wolfman, a digital eight track, assorted muses and three thousand poundstirling worth of jamaican ##$##
so it was much cheaper than up the bracket, though much darker and melodic, and decidedly more heartfelt
the full list of tracks from the babyshambles sessions is:
Black Boy Lane
The man who would be King
Arcady
At the Flophouse
O pigman where art thou
Wolfprayer
Wolfman
Bilo
Back from the dead
Do you know me? (I don`t think so)
The pied piper of Tower Hamlets
The Lust of the Libertines
Up the bracket
I love you (but you`re green)
half-cocked boy
Through the looking glass
I got sweets
Lady Godiva
My darling clementine
and of course `Babyshambles`
this has caused some ripples in the camps er pond or so, but all seems to be for the best now, as the pigman is keen to co produce it and I just want the songs to be heard, and perhaps we`ll have to release it ourselves unless Rough Trade are into doing like they did for Adam and Kimya (moldy peaches)
Bear in mind that this is the same method we used for Plan A and The Delaney - to keen reception and Carlos` eternal boastfulness on the production duties.
[edit] 5:21 AM: season of the blossom tree
The tour in Japan is going well by and by the way, and to any of the Japanese fans reading thankyou so much for the presents and letters and the mysterious love you bring to the shows. And to the people I met in Yoyogi park, thankyou for everything.
I threw up blood and bile onstage last night, but its all for a good cause. One kid springs to mind readily from the first Tokio show, he was about 15 and slightly rotund in an ill fitting libertines t shirt and burst over the barrier like a bullet from a gun, wrestled through the guards, onto and aross the stage, grabbed the mic away from me, stood on my pedal cutting off my guitar, sang the yeahyeah yeah nono no lines from the boy looked at Jonny and then screamed and did a somersault flip into the crowd. bilo!
[edit] 5:27 AM
I don`t know pal, is it? spewing up black blood onstage on all fours is not really a passive activity, not like typing, which doesn`t involve sweating to eternity drained of insight and breath and rescuing your own sodden carcass from the jaws of a million headed beast of selfdoubt and abuse. Or does it, perhaps you`ll enlighten me.... only... I very sincerely (ie with all sincerity) doubt it.
[edit] 5:38 AM
ah well, that`s my lot then I suppose meself and rightlynot to mourn me own demise. Stone me what a life.
I shall leave you now, for some good length of time I fancy, with some of Steve`s lyrics from an I.V`s song called `Climbing all the Walls`
We lead a cloak and dagger
walk with a swagger
snapping every step on the ladder
you say we`re out of time and out of date
your opinion is way too late
Its not about the style its about the living
its not the drugs we`re taking so why don`t you give in
Its not about your clothes
or the pictures on your walls
its about non uniformity..
surving all the falls
climbing all the walls
climbing all the walls
[edit] 5:44 AM
I can`t I`m shy, and anyway we`re off now to do Japaneses t.v `battle of the bands` with `mo`some tonebender` and someone behind just said they lost their mind because japanese shoes are too small for her berlack american feet and theyre gonna kill me if I dont get off the computer in the Hilton lobby coz she`s narked this red dread singer who is with the band that is doing the blue note staying here too. Lots of love, and may the Wolfman and Pitzia love and protect us all in Arcady.
Peter x
[edit] 5:47 AM
(Under username "fuckthelibertines")
speak for yourself
[edit] 9:57 AM: Peter peter
(Under username "wishyouwerehere")
Am I to reach you through this but apparantly you have eaten your phone or something and you never reply to my electronic mails, so: the agenda,
1: Surely, there can be no discrepencies between you/Carl and Rough Trade because as you and Carl are the only members of the current or indeed any line up of the Libertines who are actually signed to Rough Trade, what you say must go?
Correct me if I`m wrong but aren`t Rough Trade one of those rare things, and artist friendly label, holding on to integrity and independence of spirit in an ever commodified world?
1b: Alternatively you are at the mercy of the manager Banny and Rough Trade who do favour a commercial route, of which Babyshambles doesn`t seem to be one. I remember the last time we spoke you were out of your mind raging about a conspiracy, saying that Bani and Rough Trade would not give you any time to record new songs nor even lend you money to buy a digital eight track. In the end I heard that Jake Fior (wolfman`s manager) bailed you out and paid the money for the eight track used in the babyshambles sessions. And a right old shambles I bet they were.
2: What is happening with `For Lovers` - the song that you wrote and recorded with Wolfy seperate from the shambles. I know you are singing on it.
Is it true Carl played guitar on it and is it really gonna be number one like Wolfy said?
3: You must remember that the `fans` do not really care so much about the music, and unfortunately for you and many others gifted in the murky neverworld of composition, that it is the homogenized idea of the `band` that appeals, not a maverick vagrant Arcadian piper. Likewise with Rough Trade... otherwise why would anybody wish to stop you recording the many new songs you have obviously been writing.
Lets face it, in those `lost weeks` after you knocked the German and French tour on the head, Rough Trade could easily have put you in the studio where you belong.
But is a lawless game you have staked a claim in, sunshine. I remember Carl describing his visit to Rough Trade:
"Jeanette took me aside and said, right...here`s the problem, Peter has his head stuck up his own arse, and we have to work out how to get it out"
Ha ha ah ha ha ha ha. I almost died when I heard that one. I think the time has come to just be honest with yourself and realise if you want the freedom and liberty to record when and how you choose then The current Libertines set up is not the place for you. Why are you carrying on? I know it can`t be for the money because EMI have just pulled out of the publishing advance and record sales have not covered the advance anyway. The best song you ever wrote was Love on the Dole.. and you couldn`t even remember the chords the last time I asked you to play it.
Sharpen up kid, or move over.
[edit] 10:12 AM: Re: Wolfman
(Under username "grundies")
I thought the wolfman was just a clapped out old guttersnipe junkie? Obviously I`m mistaken, and sorry to tamper with your mythology, Mr Doherty, or is it Bilo these days?
[edit] April 30 2003, 4:28 PM
hows yer father? (NYC) [27]
Hello one and all, from you know where and all that. Listen right, dad, if your reading this or if anyone knows his address tell him that the camera I gave him on the way back from Liverpool last week appears to be someone elses because the snaps I took with it have actually been sent to me by some Japanese bird so I must have taken hers by mistake.
I remember outside some gig in Tokyo a girl was saying to me 'Peter peter you took my sisters camera' and I was really offhand with her and said ' how dare you accuse me of stealing , dont ever do that it's rude'
[edit] May 14 2003, 11:40 PM
babyshambles
still in nyc somehow
babyshambles sessions completed despite rough trade americas attempts to hijack the affair, (One fella in baggy shorts white socks and asics sits in the office aying'this does nothing for me' every now and again), sly girl steals the book of albion and has a tattoo of burning fire purple stretching up out of her knickers. Darkness reigns supreme in the chaotic and distraught world of bilo and the libertines. I am living at the chelsea hotel with assorted legends and legionnaires
here are the songs thatwe have recorded for you and for us
Babyshambles
The Man who would be king
The road to ruin
France
I got sweets
Rough Trade
Dont look back into the sun
Do you know me
Albion
Back from the dead
I love you (but you're green)
The god of small things
The Ha Ha wall
In love witha feeling
Love rain o'er me
What Katie Did
The last post on the bugle
Dilly Boys
oh fuck it there's too many to mention, but listen Adam Green popped in and did a cover of 'What a Waster' and we did the moldy peaches song (who's got the....
come 'ead
[edit] May 16 2003, 1:16 PM
U S of A and a request to an internet expert. [28]
well tonight I am to fly back to London and what to gather up for you dear friends and taunters, mockers and mothers, aggravators and allies of this time past. First things first I need to get another couple of suitcases. And somehow arrange for everyone to leave my room at the Chelsea. A wild pack of homeless crackheads, deviants, poets, philanderers and sixties freaks my closest friends of this recent time, have encapsulated perfectly Bilos loneliness and vunlnerability, splendour and sorrow.
In three easy moves.
I do get myself into these things, everybody knows. God aswell. The babyshambles demos are a right old shambles, but Adam Greens What a Waster is er, worth a listen as is The road to Ruin, although I dont know when I dozed off awhile and awake to find Carlos Barat has done the lead vocals. Sounds like Jimble Morrisson, his adored. \
Ah well, I wont bang on with the glorious horror of the truth, as I know your fans of the band and not of Peter Doherty, but if there's anyone out there whos an internet freak and knows how to set up a babyshambles.com type affair, then let it be done, I shall fund you. Let this be the beginning, not the end, dear friends.
see you at a gig or so.
[edit] 1:41 PM
I couldn't think of any real news except REM have asked us to support them in Italy (what do you reckon?), we've sold a song to quite a well known New York band for their new album but signed a pact to not reveal ever the truth, and Carl and I (and a girl called Megan the Minger) all got L i b e r t i n e tattooed on our arms in Carlos' handwriting. Bilo!
[edit] 1:48 PM
shining star?
[edit] 1:52 PM
shinpad star
I thought it might have been a pub somewhere near a venue we're going to play. no never n
Not the morgue where the zombies ride the gravy train to the centre, and blind puppies chaser tales in cages full of mirrors
but then you never know these days do you?
[edit] 1:56 PM
you can get Carls handwriting inside the Up The Bracket album sleeve. The 'death on the stairs' lyrics are written in his fair hand. Oh there is more nbews, on Monday we go back to the RAK in Lopndon to record Dont look back into the sun, Jeanne and Death on the stairs with.... Bernard Butler.
[edit] 1:53 PM
could you do it for me dyou reckon? afore its too late
[edit] 1:58 PM
yeah but I have no credit card or owt to pay for it nor does anyone here so I need someone, preferably London based, to register a dominion or so, and then meet on sunday to be given a big trunk of memorabilia to scan up.
[edit] 2:55 PM
hmm, could you get it so I can put the demos on the internet? If so we could meet in the lobby of the chelsea at noon
[edit] 3:20 PM
Bilo lobby bilo
o.k, I'll be there
I'll be in a big straw hat and brogues
x
[edit] June 5 2003, 3:12 PM
Hey kid, look what you did....
Hello. I present myself openly, tearful, ravaged to the bone. I've somehow stumbled onto a train and fallen off at Leicester of all places. Bilo on the run, from what? From myself now, perhaps the unbearable weight of sadness that crushes me. The unspoken horror and disgust I feel when I see myself.
The confusion and pride and squalid aggression in (un)holy pockets and the misinterpreted gestures.
Carlos did not show last night, as you know. For me - ah fuck I'm drowning - this is signal enough. I will not be in brewery rd at 4.00pm today for the tourbus. I will not vent my rage and wonder and hope and arcadian sublimities alongside Mr Barat for now. How can I. All angular obstacles were somehow avoided and a 'do' was arranged.. he had promised to come. It wasnae a do all in but a chance to play and I know if you read this I mask a face or two but really, I'm so warped by having to play alone again that you'd not cherish my company... Saporo will seem like the ramblings of a backwards choirboy compared to what awaits those st(c)ages
and why would yopu pay to see me in a cage,
singing songs about loneliness, despair, vile affairs, violence and rage ( only singing them because thats how I feel) good fun eh?
(aside: I posted some time ago that 'heavyhorse' is my only login, and so it remains. I cannot help but add childishly - whoever is impersonating me, I will find you and I will fuck you up)
See how I resort to such outbursts, its the charmless riposte that Biggles abhors, but I do mean it.
I must venture now on a path of healing, I must cleanse myself and a jaunt round Albion and christ knows elsewhere may be just the ticket. If you live somewhere isolated and you have space for a lonely, broken soul intent on unstoning its core again in a beautiful morning, then let me know.
Hey dad if you read this - I'll follow your advice and I will never contact you again. You will never see your son again.
Anyone banging on about the Libertines.. it has nothing to do with line-ups or press coverage or guitars. One day you will get an odd surge in your gut and you will feel and live something you thought reserved for fantasy and comic and ancient theater.
[edit] 3.26PM
ring him? you'd have more luck getting through on the phone to jabba the fucking hut. and even if I did, say what 'oh I'm a broken hearted and cannae see for floods and we both know everything about everything about it all and you hate most of our fans and your a rude arrogant fake where were you doing karaoke when there was a wonderful roof and real people who love our music to play for and you'd said you'd come and I love you with all my oh my and you're a judgemental, paranoid, twisted mumbling snob fuck'
that would hardly help matters would it?
[edit] 3.29PM
yeah he's right, I'm in the 'barber shop/internet cafe (no joke) by the station with my guitar and a toothbrush. but I can get the train somewhere else
[edit] June 12 2003, 2:10 PM
still ill: the ghost of stiv bators,and 'there's always something there to remind me'
I just can't help myself, there's no other way of reaching you, I know that. So here I am. I went into roughtrade with my begging bowl.
'What do you need?' said the tall fella
'somewhere anonymous to live, a digital eight track, a microphone, a microphone stand, a computer and a phone'
'hmm, call us next week'
________
back in the temporary albion rooms (ie the road)
'you know Peter, they need to see evidence of accountable behaviour. theses six days rummages in oblivion warp your personality and only serve to disgust and alienate. And what about the band? It's all a shambles, Peter.. Peter?'
sound of a slamming door.
Right, when's the next Libertines gig? I am healthy again, and after a much needed period of reflection and anti-freeze I must return to my band, (sound of pride slipping down the gullet)
but I'll do it on one condition... that everyone goes and watches the wolfman on saturday night? Deal?
[edit] June 18 2003, 11:57 pm
[29]
So just tell me straight, i said, do you want me to come or not?
'No, Peter'
aah, Carl, surely not this, not now, I need to play.
lose mind, stage four:
fly kick a bus, smash at abbeynational window,
bundled into car I'm later to steal, pathetically change gear in automatic and bog myself down engineless at Hackney Road Texaco.
foiled again.
then determine to go to Paris anyway. My passport was taken by my 'minder' as I slept, and Paris becomes more and more distant.
But will the Libertines, making their stand now, have me back for the English dates. They all decided I wasn't welcome in Paris. blotted head, plot thickens. Lisa, AmyJo and Nadine, all sat on the same bed. In the 'diamonds are forever suite' at the glorious Pavilion Hotel, Sussex Gardens. Visit it if only to ask to peek in one of the rooms. Really do it, adventurous one.
[edit] June 19 2003, 7:16 AM
Anyway, nevermind all that - I just realised, they, meaning Carlos, does not want me on the tour. I spoke to him on the phone just the now for a good old while.
He said he wants me to be happy. What does it mean I wonder? Ah, we all care for each other. He was on the ferry approaching the white cliffs as we spoke and talked on into the muggy morning. It is settled. I'm not welcome on the tour, and am going off into the mysteriously tomorrow to get a new band together and play the toilet curcuit again.
Bon voyage piggles.
[edit] 7:25 AM
Libertines to play without Bilo, see you in the mosh pit then...
Oi nyou lot, I thought it was a sick joke when Banny said not to show up because the band would not welcome me. But having spoken to Carlos it is true - he does not want to play with me, in my current 'condition'. I'm not sure what he means but he's deadly serious and its settled. I'm getting a new line up together for the babyshambles tour of Albion forthcoming so all able bodied men and women step forward.
I assure you I did my fucking damndest to get to Paris anyway, but can see now how badly they went out of their way to prevent me leaving the country ( stealing a mans passport out of his pocket whilst he slept)Can't let it get you down, heartbreaking as it was. The lights are all on, it is clear. There is no use moaning about it, it's the way it is. I'm getting on with things without any of them, though god knows I love him.. it's not happening anymore and its the way it is. Fuck 'em. And fuck all you who sit back typing self-preening running me down - Carlos asked me not to play, that he didn't want me, so that's that.
[edit] 7:38 AM
fuck off Peter you selfish coward
Further to this.. I suppose replies will be forthcoming, so I will try and respond in advance to notions I have of your responses.
First:
I can see it from their point of view, I have proven unreliable and let people down. Gary, John and Carl have worked like martres and I just expect to show up when I choose. They have made a stand and I can't just swan up and plug in and scream it all out anymore. I don't want to be in that position anymore, I dont want to have all of 'em relying on my whims, and the thoughtlessness of my relatives dropping off one by one.
second:
I am not comfortable with the line up and over the months have repeatedly (if a little cowardly in my subtleness) tried to explain to Gary and John that I don't want to be in a band with them. My capriciousness deters them from taking me seriously but that is the way it is. My new songs are all I have, along with my liberty, and everything has to be just right from now on in. I need to start singing my new songs, and I want to play with other people.
thirdly:
the recent responses from Libertines fans have made me a little bored and aweary. I think a sensitive, more open minded crowd of ears awaits me and yes, I'll watch my back.
[edit] June 19 2003, 8:02 AM
what Katie did to you... an open letter to Madame Bilo: oi softgirl, giz a kiss [30]
something or anything or all the greedy guts stir in me well of ********** (loneliness) not such a dirty word if it means all of sweet nothing and ungracious fallen feeling that had no such as dear grandeur in the heart of the matter. I read your words and cannot avoid a 'touching me this is' affair of the heart I pray that you do not write with reading eyes in mind, mind you, dear oh dearest (it's easy to pretend, but really) girl I adore you so it scares me this unbalance, the morning trembled to mourn a lost boy grateful dead the obvious always unsaid. I'd hold you so dear to cherish and unsuspect, this love is unreal, to see you dance or so, to hold and roll you over and lips to meet.
Could we runaway, for lovers, for no others. I believe you and inwardly object to fearful, tearful selfish manouvres I undertake. It's a slope and I don't want to look down, something in me wants so badly for you to kill me, as I sleep shoot or stab me for my weird actions that so hurtful result to be. It's not enough to know you are the (here we go then..) most of all desirable, glorious girl woman nymph alike I ever encountered and feared and desired and it's not enough to declare my love and pipey magraw & glorious dawns, is it enough to say - I will do as you say, just say it, order me, tie me up in the confetti chains. The man who would be king is your slave enslaved and let's brand ourselves this day.
Oi, soft girl, giz a kiss.
I do not want you to be anybody or anything but how you be, you crackers Madame Bilo of the ready dawn, coach me 2 infinite spectral dilemma.
[edit] June 27 2003, 7:28 PM
for lovers [31]
What happenned there? I woke up quite dazed and was helped into a farm house with bars on the windows. One week later I'm hitchhiking away. I was not allowed to make phone calls or use the internet. On the bright side I was prodded and poked and shared 'groups' with perhaps some of the most perceptive and sensitive people i ever met or the seeming likes of the recovery. I am sorry to leave, but drug free this past eternity (9 days, just for the record) was with secret contact informed that Wolfman and Katy Bapples were to be married tonight in London. I made it but to my heart's distress the whole deal was scam. No wedding, and now I'm discharged against medical opinion and wander one way streets, penniless and gaqgging to speak to you, in tongues, in song, in person. There will bean 'acoustic' gig this week, perhaps in whitechapel on the roof again.
[edit] June 29 2003, 10:22 PM
Song from the highest tower (By Arthur Rimbaud - Ed.)
Youth so full of Leisure
Slave to each new taste
In fine choice of pleasure
My life went to waste.
Ah, may the time come
When hearts are as one!
I bethought me: Go,
Hide thee from men's sight.
Never shalt thou know
Loftier delight.
Let no hindrance meet
Thy august retreat.
Ah, the soul is lonely.
Thousand times bereft
Widow, she has only
Mary's image left.
Are prayers truly said
To the Virgin Maid?
I have sufferred so,
Memory is dead.
All my fear and woe
To the skies are fled.
Morbid thirst remains
Darkening my veins.
So oblivion looming
From the meadow stares,
Meadow wide and blooming
With incense and tares;
Crazy dronings rise
From the filthy flies.
Youth so full of leisure
Slave to each new taste,
In fine choice of pleasure
My life went to waste.
Ah, may the time come
When hearts are as one!
[edit] July 24 2003, 8:24 PM
Cherin (Soraya)and the last days of Rome [32]
Bohemia is alive and well, and settling down with her cats and fraggle in Kilburn. The doors are open this saturday eventide for Libertines.. so come one come all to
61 Gascony Avenue, Kilburn, London NW6
£10 / £5
doors 7.00pm
'Its better to cry over spilt milk than to try and put it back in the bottle'.. or not? Ah well, it's neither mickling nor muckling, but things are certainly livening up this end. I'd like you all to come on saturday, and let me sing to you a while, for new times sake. The only question is.. is London big enough for two bands called the Libertines and has it really come to that? We shall see. Show yourself.
x
[edit] August 1 2003, 5:12 PM
the gossip calypso, a gig this coming monday, and last nights assault [33]
Hello any who have stumbled upon this site at last, and a sweet soppy kissle for any regulars. Chatham was as barmy and ten ten thousands times the temperature of balmy, of any of my imagined scenarios. disjointed, catastrophic asault on the senses and I wouldn't have been elsewhere for all the world. Was a rare oddly to play at the flophouse, do you know me?, what katie did, Albion and all their new friends.
Some alarm all inside me when a young boy threw himself down the stairs when I would not play pool with him.
that'll sink in soon: I mean the expression I'll re etch and trace and loosen my mind over on his sweet face tumbling
glass all to shatter.
THIS MONDAY: free entry to 'The Gardens' club
188 Broadhurst Gardens
London NW6
the closest tube is one minute away, as is the overail northLondon free train West Hampstead is the name of both the stations. is close to Kilburn. oh aye I do apologize for the Gascony no show but i was under satanic arrest as you may have heard. Three days in the cells with all the torture you could muster to think up for me.
They have a one man performance license so I shall be playing alone with a guitar though for the evening.
Try out a few new wee ditties and shamble through upthe bracket and shambles and b.o.t.b sessions.
should be a mellow evening so come down and have a drink or six and we'll sing and sigh about what not
Babyshambles gig these coming monday. Free entry, I say oh last night Welsh Pete turned up at my gaff with the buzzcocks drummer (this all sounds so strange but really now, everyday is of the kind you couldnae even begin to scrpt) and gave me what I suppose a lot of people think I have been asking for of late: a couple of well aimed punchesw up the bracket. man he was sour, fuming abusive. said he'd been to carl and the boys' rehearsals the night before and everyone was so heartbroken and my name was mud and that I had burgled carl and tried to burgle him and stand up and fight like a man he charged into my bedroom and pointed to the newly awakened Nadine and said 'as for you you fucking piece of slime' I was naked and begged him to go outside if he wanted a fight and I'd get some kecks on. Once outside my aching limbs fresh from two day slumber floundered like a sickly child in the path of this drunken welsh giant of a hoodlum and he chased me over cars and up and down the 3.00am street catching me a couple of good 'uns. Ow. Think I was lucky. Marcus came out and called the police and he scarpered. anyway cant say much more on the matter but if you read this Pete: I'm sorry, I've been a cunt or so and...ouch.
[edit] August 5 2003, 10:42 AM
who's that girl? why does the equipment never work, and further legal wrangles [34]
I just made the curfew and a good job two as three (count 'em) burly metropolitan police officers were last night hot on the Bilo's tail as the clock struck upon the hour darkness or so.
Ridiculous really, the only danger I pose to the public is disorganizing gigs where nothing ever works. The plan last night was to play through a digital mixing desk and record the whole thing and then send copies to people in the crowd for £2.99 to cover costs. But of course.. as I picked up my guitar from behind the bar a beautifully stirred but not shaken ginand tonic spread itself across the equipment and so usual shambles reigned supreme.
So I say this, the next gig (this sunday) I need a volunteer for the soundcheck to er,check the sound and then guard all equipment with their wife.
We are rehearsing every day this week and will playing with full equipment hurray etc.
thankyou to those who came, and 'We'll meet again' fair broke my heart, which I thought was now beyond feeling. Why am I still noit allowed to play? My blood is clean and I promise I'll never do it again me lud
yours, evading the claw of the law,
Bilo x
[edit] August 16 2003, 1:34 PM
the wolf and the lamb in the land of the leper [35]
Two trod and one so pestering at the falter of older other in the old world. Giros and on the rob, stealing the light from the dawn and sweet lasting embraces besides the late night river Thames. Mountain ranges of paperback books, heart shaped renditions of 'you're my waterloo' and 'france'.
First time I seen him cry: 'tears and tears in his proud fathers coat' 'Death on the stairs'. Yes, I wrote 'how can we..' yes older sings it so magnificently. Now he's stuck brogues nailed to conveyer belt and he's screaming to come away: but the infastructure is there all behind and for him, appreciative, egging.
Fat lines of coke courtesy of Rough Trade, or a Strokes guitarist, backstage passes and torments in the night.
Bored, plain kids shyly approach us. wow oh scramble scramble.
No, mum, I'm fine. Aaah. The nurse beckons me closer, she has watched me laughing crying, singing all day..
sweet old Irish accent:
'You're no addict young man, they'll mollycoddle you to death yet. Jesus you come away til I marry you. Be careful, look out now. There's a hallful of bastards out there your friends. Just watch it now. Sing your little heart bare'
Carl. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, so truly, and I love you and I'm here.
[edit] August 21 2003 at 8:06 PM
Her Benny - read it and weep., Lilo Lil and little bo peep [36]
dat boy/ must be a maniac
they gave him every chance and he gave it right back.
My son wraggling pinkie, toothless little 6 week old gurgler and screamer. Laying beside me on the bed, terrible dust clouds wheezing our dreams. This week his mother and I must register his name down at the borough town hall in kings cross.
Earlier, seeping back through the London, the flophouse walls crooked book cases and christene Keeler's old lover. Experts in paranoia and insanity, mutterings, kestrel brew and a funal reading on the bare bohemian stairwall, quangle quangle or such nonsense from Edward Lear unreadable
all the walls shifting in slow folding waves, and the early dawning so peaceful.
thinking about the gig tomorrow and the shambles, and todays calling. Is it a rescue mission. Taking out the pips and removing the bones
lest someone chokes soon enough
and the poor babysitters on acid, paralysed with horror and the screaming gums twisting head chucky like, little hands waving in agonies.
Meanwhile, torments in the night.
The roads==in the city coarsing with the clockwork metal cars the blood everyone off to work. We sit on the steps on the street, people think we're bums, speeding drivers racing for the way, glares none concealing malice, the odd flash of that that keeps your beleif bound for glory (or life)
Patches of thrown crumbs in the cemetary, dog chasing stationary food, tumbling over itself.
Brompton Cemetary with Steve, lost in a hundred thousand graces of the past, suddenly the hell where youth and laughter has gone. Returning to peace and hilarity, switching channels like we do. Disgusted and excelling in ourselves, light eads, we'll talk over this same old shite forever, over walls and cornering catacombs, in the centre a promenade of hich tunnelled houses for the dead, dstepping lightly, ready to defy everyone and defend myself and all that fragile boy they reckon to know of being all beastly boneheaf. must stay free.
"your writing is very stylish" does he mean affected, it feels like limbering up, falling out of the windyo to grab absconding ideas, determined to lost be forever.
Tips of the left dirty finger nails slightly crooked up to scars and 'Libertine' in handwriting, round the bend and flecks of poison in and out of the chest, "Baby Shambles" nd down again to a mermaid, bracelet of silver hearts.
skull to come and
crossed bones
chequed by the guitar shop, signed and sealed inside a bomb, more fatalities in the middle of the east.
Like a mirror
or are you indifferent?
Labrynth of opinions and sour tongues. Ideas about language and the surprising limbs, the way its younger than doubt - if people read it.
Perfect words, like in the living abbaration with a clear solution - six figure station for the stars, and the distance of the stars and all the curious coincidences.
He has a gift and I never exaggerated even if it was all dot to dot now and then alone again or your friends and closenit community of malice.
As you lay in awe on the kerbside floor, dreaming of the earth, throwing stones and wobbling teeth
she hates me all over the place,
knocked me out with a padlock,
'I'm not an alcoholic, just a hard drinking Irishman"
travelled across Africa, bacame a mohammaden
I quipped slowly something and he said
'oh - a funny guy , should be on the tele'
[edit] August 23 2003, 9:33 AM
last nights night/ up the bracket - did you like my album then? / Can't buy me love& what a palava [37]
Last nights Libertines gig at the curious old Troubadour cafe forwarded four of us forced to cancel coz of severe electrical shocks, and Neil got headbutted too - but never have I come away from a gig with such joy in my heart and enjoyment at playing. The four of us united in some long lost arcadian bliss and chaos and embraces, proud of each other and 'you see these two cold fingers' to the lot.
found an old book o mine
perhapit was Australia - reverted to from Scarborough perhaps and a house of generational bustle wherein there was much ado. Bumped into Steve outside the second hand shop opposite. Many familiar tshirts etc on sale / bought . Afore that in the dark - avoiding someone. D_ presenting designs for greek art - me with cloven hooves & hairy legs in mid spear throw, her as nymph like hunted creature and another. Agreed after initial disgust at her appearance to appear in photographs. Much entrapment on subtle manouvre(pokey in the garden shed laid out in mud by piratewood planks jutting all so still in the memories and ?)
Before that something of wonder and spectacle going round hilly an old dark town. Chasing it up- but what was it? Some ancient, fearsome thing (shivers now for me awake here in the west end town of open ended walls of London homeless and penniless again after this year or so of insanity, 23...fuck.. 24 years of insanity internet cafe, straw hat, cold)
you gota hear this new song though...
anyway the ancient thing crooked with spikes. Then being stood on a wall overlooking a bay, cars falling into the water looking closer to see people still in the vehicles, having a grand old time joined them and went around underwater, breathing wherever possible. This after seeing an amazing kalaidascope twisting morphing pattern in the harbour water.
Imagine.. all this talk of 'rehab' or what not.. haha
I remember being awoken by a nurse pulling sheets off my naked body saying "if you wont get up this is what we do"
, or maybe I'll let you read the book of Albion I began whilst there.... (wobbly screen effect and strange music)....
..'nip downstairs for 2 boiled eggs and a glass of cranberry juice. sneak back to bed. turfed out again. I feel so weak down here now. I sit alone aching drowsy fuck I'm withdrawing hot cold flushof sweats, panic
a nurse brings me more medication to refuse.. I don't want to suffer but I want to be free from everything stopped smoking awhile now. The nurse sits with me and I keep crying. Is it self pity? Remorse? In my heart I know I am still suffering and in shock at Carlos not wanting me in Paris. Please Peter (underlined!) if you read this in the future, do not forget this day. He left you to rot in confusion & chaos when all you needed - beleive it - when all you needed was to play your music in Montmartre. Do not return to that fold: fuck it off.'
[edit] 10:14 AM
carries on in this fashion awhile. Shall I continue? Lifes
' I stroll the grounds a while, play croquet on the sodden grass. Am very good at it evidently. small starling fly up from the bushes chirping and tweeting. gunshots in the popping distance. clay pigeons exploding. The tiny pills were white, inviolate, lithium for brekkers. A bird went in search of a cage. Mine eyes have seen the glory, the terrible swift sword. Danny le Rue: in answer to 'where's your god now?' 'He's taken my money, not my talent. I know a lot of rich, dead people'
Goodbye Mr Chips. 'I did my best' Operation Alba - to stabilize Albania. EIN SOF, AYIN'
'Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now am found
was blind but now I see
twas grace that taught my heart to fear
and grace my fears relieved
how precious did that grace appear
the hour I first beleived
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come
Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far
and grace will lead me home
The lord has promised good to me
his word my hope secures
he will my shield and portion be as long as life endures'
'Eventide the rain sodding the country earth crushiong up sweet smells of pine and dampened nature all around. A dressing covers the razor blade cuts in my arms, and renewal sets into my heart awhile. Montmartre, I think back to, rain on the cobbled streets..'
'Patients mill about in the hour before bedtime, one of my roomates an Irishman named ___ pokes his face in and says goodnight.'
'Goodnight ____' say three girls who have been sat around complaining about his lechery.
Chat with the nurse about withdrawels agonies..must be the celtic blood in you she says when I speak of natural agonies, infinite sadness of the soul and melancholy of the heart etcetera que sera sera
people heading off to bed... discomfort and assorted symptoms upon me now. Footsteps and shadows the pretty pots and trays hanging on shelves. Brenckelen - broken land. '
'The days are long here, and my senses sometimes dulled by the dull scene. The merry chirp of birds and the bright sunshine offer remedy and a giant grand oak spreads itself many armed across the skyline.
very reluctant today to leave my bed and join group. eventually a group commences and it is the most dramatic yet, much swearing, many tears, and aggrevation. underneath when finished, weary of love supreme's bind to forgive is , oh, natural & difficult but to remain faithful to my stark hurting decision will prove ah, impossible? not to crack, even harder, but I have been promised this and that for my terrible inconvenience. Busy legs carrying rapid minds to the boil. Laundry room and cutelry leaking shadows
reading pamphlets about powerlessness and unmanageability. 'Hello' I have to say, with the others ' My name is Peter I am an addict and my life is unmanageable' oh, but in their hearts they really do not know why they do it. Once this malady has a real hold, they are a baffled lot.
warm light soothes the room, with its low wooden beams and pretty orange lamps. D_____ comes in and slouches on the blue chairs 'Is eastenders on yet? what time is it?' a cold wind through the open gilded windows. I don't want to lie in a bed with wheels. Water had turned to ice which spoiled our adventures to some extent. was there fighting upon the terrain of beautiful islands? I was suspected of stealing 3 mobile telephones (which was likely but untrue that day) Filming top of the pops, Marilyn Manson & his band watching from the sidelines threat and hit on the head with an instrument they warned us of fans retributions. Oasis playing with thefellaesque dancers in cages.'
'I awake uncomfortable in the bright morning and stroll the grounds awhile. The ducks waddle away from me and swim to freedom across the murky pond. Not waving but drowning. It is adventure enough to survive now. My breathing has returned to a silence suggestive of normal, and my body is less weary. A butterfly settles on a giant daisy. As time gets on with things, my sorrow does not get lighter, but I become accustomed to the dark, I remember (or was it read of) a tall hairy sailor on a railway station platform, with a baby brown bear on a metal chain'
[edit] August 23 2003, 10:21 AM
Cheynes walk, London NW5 [38]
Skinny rat boy lookout on a wall at the narrow longstepped entrance to the estate by Kentish Town overail free train station, such contempt in his eyes as _____ and _____ two Irish hoodlums escort me back to the crackhouse to retreive my shit. darkness in the extreme, as I left ____flashed me a huge bag of tightly wrapped rocks, thousands of pounds worth of crack and heroin. the lookout signalled as we turned the corner and ____ and ____ his needled lover appeared outside the costcutter. gazing darkly as the cars shadow retracted upon itself and we sped away up the prince of wales road. fear and hatred do not find expression in tears. they are not worthy of them, best saved for tender feelings.
[edit] August 31 2003 at 8:24 AM
The sweet by and by Bilo's continuing extracts from thebookof Albion circa rehab era 2003 [39]
How it came to be I'm having to work again (cheers and jeers from he pit) Unloading fruit for my friends stall in Brick Lane. Anyway, take me back..
"my hair is straight, my teeth are not. 'The sweet bye and bye' (anon), vice is its own reward. Reading trashy novels by Susan Glaspell. Vie la vie de Boheme. Idly dreamily imagining an late autumn afternoon in London with Tallulah Bankhead. Ah me, the well of lonliness. Have befriended A_______, a boy from Bulgaria who is being funded here for heroin addiction. He has a powerfully built body - apparantly he was once a goalkeeper (and he's a very able table tennis player.
I have spent a little time with him and he has told me in a tatty feathered pigeoned English of his junk fuelled days on the streets of Sofia, robbing people for bags, jewelry, cameras, cash for heroin. Suddenly is it real? veri sad and lonely like shame or so as I confided in him and we swapped stories of roberies and oddly crime. He says people are kind here, and this confuses him I think, people do not care so much where he comes from. I explain it is this place rather than England. I say I'd like to visit him in Sofia in September. "but what we..will do?"
"I'll do a concert, and we can take lots of heroin" halfjoke, we both laugh. He brightens up and tells me that the heroin is cheap and high quality in Bulgaria. Lying on our backs in the bleeding sunshine, blowing rollup smoke into the sky, he turns to me slyly and
"Peter let me asking... ask you something..."
"hmm" I turn to him slowly, cryptic afternoon plot and readily keys when we're the last up, devil adoring nurse wanders that bit too far and still the strum of the guitar. And we neither do but...
(later that eternity..)
Today ____ my Irish roommate tells the group his life story. Everyone has to take notes and then confront him with criticisms and appraisals of his behaviour.
Clucking or false want
my dry throat &
toatally ill at ease
my cocked knee &
cocky pink daisy in my hair. she leans
back on the grass, the
sun darkening her
dark born skin.
Barbados born and
south Brixton bred she
enslaves boys
in her bed
she binds my feet
and strokes my head
fixes up & then
plays dead. Skips
&starts a fire
a whiule a funeral pyre for polastic
icons from the burnt
out flats. Old
Russian woman who used to give her 50p on saturdays - she'd buy sweeties.
Something very
distressing occurred before our time nearly- her father was crushed after a Gustav Gloop style ensnarement into a huge factory machine. We kneel often at an old west London graveoften at an old west london cemetry and drink from ringing hipflask, with its little bells on the screwtap.
M_____ story has picked up a little - by now he is old and married and has degenerated into alcoholism & spending much of his time with a high class Manchester working girl. Christmas was a disaster at home & his wife and children rounded on him. They barred him from his own home and broke into his car - to cram in all his worldly possessions. He descended further into drinkuntil his family heard through the grapevine he was souped up to the nines at the manchester Hilton, they turned up and frogmarched him to a well known rehab. His wife filed for divorce. At 51 he lived on his own for the first time, returned to drinking and saw the call girl from time to time. All good resolve after visiting severasl clinics were to be cast away. Sometimes to be found falling over unshaven on the streets of Altringham. Tales of blackouts. Coming to in a layby 2 days after last conscious memory. Driving across roundabouts. For a fresh start he took the hooker to Monte Carlo.. further outrages until at one point he is discharged from a well known clinic for having a sly pint or so whilst taking his smalls out to the laundry. Finds god in a country church.
Simple greetings not so much utterred as divulged
laughter outed from the
outhouse so still
the steady rise of
volume from the giant
metal birds.
This pointed prose
disguised as poesie
to mask the facey
day and obliterate no
thing only if I go
I'm always so drawn
to go there.
The advent of the
voyage into the
old familiar that fake
unknown. Skalektrix
men racing down the
lanes, popping out
of their tracks
like remorse and the
neglect of their blood.
Taday a 'yaga' teacher
came in a shiny
two seater sports car
dolphin coloured mats
are spread out sunlike
in the yellow hreat
like numbers on a clock
like a circle.
Gob in the grass
C_______ (40's cocaine addict
alcoholic, anorexic)
does a cartwheel
seal of yoga
head below the heart
acknowledging a higher power
there's talk of optic nerves
and dog positions
Gob is like frog spawn
book catch ideas and squash insects
C_______ is girllike
a cool mum type
I'd have loved
like Borrells. I am hurried
like a wrong
hushed up to the
nearest clinic then,
and now its more than a dreary day
or so, it interrupted boy
it's personal,
they mean business.
M____ had been on
the pipe quite severely
ending up slashing up
her wrists and copping off
with a load of
valium. Hospitalized,
bed on wheels.
I, born a lotus - eater
suffer permanace &
the symptoms of withdrawel.
Fungus or chalk like
crawling down the red walls
R______ gets the words wrong
to a rap song and sings
'get it up get it in
let me begin
K___ tells the group
of her plan to knock
off hard drugs and
smoke weed. She gestures to the sun
and an imaginary
water bucket pipe.
She brushes off a
money spider.
Who is MIchael Arlen anyway? Done in by history and by time and collective cultural memory: taken for a cunt. & what is a neophyte? A hedonist? A pleasure seeking individual? and stage right, slave white,
bone idol
He had the airs and graces
of a genius but no talent
this is called:
'Soho Poverty'
[edit] 9:18 AM
*things to do no.1: visit Denbigh street. Cut it on the bias.
cut it on the bias.
"Sheila Dora drinking Oxo. Desuetude?
I know some people heard a different story but this train is bound for glory. She came into my room, ducking her head under the low wooden beam.
"Do you like my pyjamas?" she asked. stood longingly, tanned and white somehow in tight
shorts and a thin tshirt. Her tits* held up even in more than three deacdes. She crawled from the foot of the thin bed up to my naked belly and pulled back the covers and crawled under the willowy patterned blankets. She looped the bilo until I came and then fucked off quicker than I had come, lest the nurse should intervene.
"Goodnight" she whispered as she left
"Goodnight" I sighed, and turned on the lamplight and play a new song
fmaj7 intro
Am
up on until late of loneliest
G
time (this my life was filled with every crime (grime)
now I was banished from the only place
I ever felt strong and safe
by the only friend with who I never had to pretend
coz he knew me all up and down inside
out.
(terrible best go to sleep, beautiful melody though, so sad, now it is forgotten and I dream...)
Here, in a mixed with water way... 'Rodney Ackland?' oddities he'd flaunt before the amazed eyes of the matinee audience Portsmouth Portsmouth Portsmouth
HMS pinafore. They can't leave anything alone.
'Fred Barnes?'
The pre dawn giving none too generous of light a thin film across the oddly cut white wardrobe. Ducks squawk from the pretty much dark as the sun is yet to appear here. 'Does it ever?' I wonder aloud to noone.
...
The sky is lightly blue and the air is cold. My dream presented Camille (my french dancer friend, Carlos, Nadine, Sara Black and Grimaldi. So distant now. I awake all to fret alightly and rumble a muse on the future. Ideas of forming a band, Pistols, Dolls, Stooges, Libertines. Shit... I look at the clock for the first time. It is ten to four now and the sky is lilac, with birdsong chorus all around. I'll back to bed and so to bed... fatigue consumes me so this morning. Groups are not artificial, but they are not inordinately challenging.
Life: a funny thing that happenned to me on the way to the grave. Who is here? Meaty tanned old pissheads.
Posh girl cerack'eads who are to be commended on their complete contempt for the idea that they should in any way mask their poshness.
There's a long long trail.
I'd be unambitious if I sought to re enact the recent Libertine costume dramas in Japan and America. I need to stick me flag in the sand, Bilo landmark.
'Still eyes look coldly upon me
cold voices whisper and say
'he is crazed with the spell of liquor
They have stolen his wits away
Diseased oysters give us the pearls y'know...
All is heartache? Less or more of the same dull days here. Groups flare up now and then but offer me little, hurt my back, make me want to take more crack... I_____ is a young beautiful 38 year old woman and together we have devised a cunning scheme to get crack and smack sent to us here at Farm Place. Perhaps some'll come tomorrow couetesy of _____ or Ms Plinth. I feel drawn to the shadows and country yards, dusty tracks on English twigs and berry bramble arcadian retreats. Stacks of black rubber tyres and tiny potting sheds. Birdsong incessant, and life blooming yet its my heart of hearts where the thorn thicket is set frozen in whitest stark winter. Obliterated the response, the push for a sweeter song, a less rowdy & nauseous, stifling swampy clinging turgid greif; to all gods and blessed Demeter "pop round & fly my heart away" I'm asked to 'do my work'... how exactly can I benefit when I know that even as I speak crack and smack are being posted to me from London? How can I write about the damages caused by drugs when my capricious, spiteful, selfish nature is aided by drugs & does less damage when numbed, forded into washed out indifference to all the clots that stuff up my bed and my band. Ah life she's a musty looking broad.. human eyes flipbook.Jan Sobyeski - defeated ottoman empire reached gates of Vienna 1683.
You can't lock me up
you try and shut me up
look out behind you
I'm gonna find you
and then I'm gonna fuck you up
I thrill ya
then I kill ya
then I bill ya
i seen all your motherfuckin snouts in the swill ya
A________ has been moved toi another clinic because of 'fraternizing' with C_______, another patient. I will miss him. Last night we very nearly done a runner with the nightwatch's car. It was just us two up late, playing guitar and smoking menthol. We decided against doing a runner in the end. Its not so bad here, except my urine tested positive for traces of cocaine. This is a blatant stitch up, I'll retest tomorrow. The results are nothing more than indicative of heavy crack abuse last thursday night/ friday morning - the night before I came in nearly one week ago. It is sad though because I am proud to have gone nearly one week and am paranoid they think I'm secretly on the pipey.
when I have gone
when I have gone
when I have really gone...what was wrong in the eyes of the insane and unwise
when they killed a man for his giro today.
'Farm Place preamble' (read aloud before each group meeting)
"The members of this group all share problems: alcoholism, chemical dependency, eating disorders, personality disorders, character defects, unmanageability...."
M____ reads her life story today. As a baby she crawled up onto the counter and drunk meths. She gets to a bit about primary school& breaks down in tears... I____ arrives... in control of a horse/ out of control. Pills, abortion, pokey with Hose, put on so much weight her parents didn't recognize her 'stomped off back home to the pipe' had pokey unawares, woke up naked and sick. Sold her flat because she needed the change. Crack houses, Kings cross, Ladbroke Grove, Hammersmith. Thoroughly enjoyed herself, brazen, drunken, nymphomaniacal crackhead. Went to 'Stunners' in Hoxton: sexual deviancy abounded. Ended up in casualty after taking xannex, valium and cutting up her arms and legs. Base assets on how we find her now. Honesty deffo..
road to ruin stylee
B7 Em Am B+ D7 D9 C G
oh how we danced on the night
that we met
Eb Fm Bb/ Cm/ Bb
Another hollow sleepy day at Farm Place. I am quite taken though by some of the music books scatterred atop of the old Joanna in the panel room. I have been found tearfully strumming away to 'Bright Eyes' 'Stranger in Paradise' and 'Begin the Beguine' It is quite frustrating now to not be able to communicate with the outside world - no internet, no phone calls
C Em Am
you bin messing with the girl I love
so I know now/ gotta go now
butro butros garney..what does it mean?
head of united nations?
QPR in the final, the pitch of murky pond water. I slouching and ambling about with the fans. Made my way under the stands to the dressing room where the team proper awaited (thinly disguised as the Libertines) Gary was there and Tommy (whom I have never met) gave me a clean kit. Was I useless on the pitch all but? Did I join Left Hand?
Connects me to another dream, a recurring one in which I have the freedom to stroll about Loftus Road, and I nip into the dressing room and half hinch a load of clobber. Also: aeroplanes dropping me and some fellow adventurer off somewhere (near Brighton or so?)
Was I measuring what I thought was possible (very strong person) money as power, we are all prostitutes in our modern world. Signing your name and getting paid it it is ties: no matter what creed or colour or tribe. Without money the world would be run by a clique. The drunk was screaming 'you can cut me you can bind me...'
[edit] October 3 2003, 12:01 PM
[Kirsty R and Kirsty W announce Freedom Gig] [40]
[edit] October 12 2003, 8:45 PM
Re: Peter - Are you going to play Wed & Sat? (please answer) [41]
eh? I know nothing of this. On tuesday Carlos and I leave the country for two months to write a new album
[edit] October 18 2003, 10:35 AM
Albion prison diary (sound of carlos yawning) [42]
here we go then....
[edit] October 24 2003, 10:38 PM
A quiet week in the country [43]
spend some time together he said, write some songs he said,... he didn't say anything about possessed cats and carlos having to get his eyeball stitched up... oh we're together but something has finally given....
[edit] 10:59 PM
This is a bit of me I thought, choosing the coldest room in Mr Magees big old stone house in the black hills. A boingy old brass rust bed and victoriana arcady, reading couch, bandylegged desk. We set up a little studio with the bilo recorder and mimi amps in the echoey 'library' room. Some fine new compositions being sown and reaped in the harvest of souls, then explosions and bloodshed and oh me lonely horrors as Alan whisks the delerious biggles off to hospital, then the eye hospital. sex symbol in an eye patch? buccaneers indeed. Spent the day rolling in and out of undressed dreams, watching jesusandmarychain video and listening to Olucky man soundtrack, newyorkdolls, morrissey, magicandmedicine, thewho, dylan, roomonfire, waiting for them to come back from the operation
screamadelica now as I stare out into pitcher full of blackness, not a light save for the murky stars.
The three of us dined together again tonight. Carl very spun out, theanaesthetic wearing off I seen doom in his face.
I went upstairs after and sat on his bed and we were laughing about things afore too long. I told him he was my best friend and I care for him so much, am worried about him, and love him. He held me and said 'Its been a long time since you said that'
I can hear him now, brightening up, joking with Alan, we're all gonna watch a peter sellers film I think, or the wicker man, there is no time here.
I'm gonna tell you some private things cause you can keep secrets, you are the internet. you know somehow, I'm scared for the lot. all or nowt Something unavoidable is at my door and I have to answer soon.
Old rage was never smothered by pleasant attentions and flattering gesture, it's unholy and it's still in his heart's belly. Imagine a terrible sensation, memory jolted, in awe and disgusted
someone hurting themself so badly life is mocked, the incurable ache, the devastation.
someone sends me a text, they are wrong when they write:
'peter you are an evil, manipulative jealous bastard. You've hurt carl one too many times'
I think its from carl's girlfriend, who I once....
is that what it was all about? that and totpops and the door kick down theft and his sister and songwriting credits
ah cruel fates, do you think I don't want him to be happy, fuck you anonymous mug, nogood fucking tart..
no.. it was the whiskey.. always the whisky, and the bathroom mirror and oh sweet jesus
Alan Magee "oh great, I've taken on a band with a genius singwriter with a penchant for crack and a sex symbol who likes to beat himself up"
shhhhhhh
[edit] October 25 2003, 12:25 AM
alls well that ends well
Biggles walking round delerious still, singing a great new song, something about 'likely lads' or so. I showed him what I wrote. He looked all aghast and said in a faraway voice 'we're so glad you came says a nursey'
oddly boy.
no drinkies tonight thats for sure, Mr Magee's on standby, and a little freaked out after recent catastrophes.
seems like I have a wee flat to return to in whitechapel
somewhere nice and pokey apparantly to ward off a party vibe. hmmm.
We gander through cyberspace 'why does noone write to me on .org, they should call it peter.org the fuckers'
'because you never post on it'
'oh yeah, well I will now. I've got a great login name'
'what is it?'
and so to bed, to watch the wickerman on biggles' dvd.
'scary magregor' he says 'I'll make some tea'
ah, aint she sweet? night all
[edit] November 9 2003, 7:12 PM
extract: letter from Wolfie [44]
"as the fallen survivor, am i
to features what you are to crime
and i
sprang the libertine high
price
i paid for your lies
a pious resign
a charmless alibi
a fatal trial
a waste of young style
get wise
a valiant man
cut down to size
to die
and i
despite featureless reaches of time
never bargained for this
and what's more you never cared about me
l wolfexxxxxx "
[edit] November 18 2003, 4:31 PM
bilo callin all: gig Tomorrow night, Libertines, shambles, rabbi: Razzcocks grand reunion. [45]
ferlicking through sticky backed photographical memorials to the ravaged memory was I, and john carl and aye me - teenaged skinheadle besuited me - one of the three all in a row at an empty filthys a year or four ago. Behind us, slimm face sideways angled (in his absently timeless twitch delerium to the rythm way) under a cloth cap, Mr Razzcocks rat tat tatting through the old set 'Music when the lights go out' 'The good old days' 'Pay the lady' 'I got sweets' 'You're my waterloo'... we were good, see for yourself/ for...Then would you adam and eve it out of the blue the phone rings and Razzers is in town, and tomorrow night we are to play, with delighting yous our intention. I had a letter orf of him in prison and it wasnae gate happy talk that encouraged my wrist to scrawl replying in the stone cell intending plainly wisk his plans for some time soon my way, and now..Hip hip.... and what with recording the babyshambles album later this week I can maybe sneaky like trick all libertines and shambles alike into a meaning to gather and all together in a roundabout way clout the callous night with an orgy of arcadian musical accomplishment together like and ol' razzers skint to be a wee bit better on the towards minted route with a backhander of the non bloody kind to fund his agely poverished big holy (wouldnae matter for nowt to carelessly drop and roll away forever)_sky rocket scenario
Perhaps I mean to say, come down tomorrow for a night to remember.
kick off 9.00pm, Duke of Clarence, Rotherfield Street off Essex Road, Islington London N1
£8
p.s: Sophie, Reg, sorry and a brand of shame for letting down on sunday, but the babby needed his daddy
[edit] November 28 2003, 7:14 PM
gap toothed piano grins a sham rag [46]
Dull colours that stand their ground: above all, words sentenced to the recommended few seconds of chirped or silently read post, perched above all this rotton intention and masked pleading for someone to come right here and take me to a high ceilinged flat in Eastern Europe and set me down for anonymous years in a delicate desperate love affair, and to live together and write at the old desk which will be there. In timeless mornings full of music and shut out light, that's where I'll find your lover
or is he swinging violently from one end of the ugly little box to the other with my days drained of blood at the neck.
the shade of grim that theft has clouted
the borders of the subject with:
pride turned the crimson of my shame's sham
e
lessness.
sounds
Babyshambles London sessions well under way now, nearly one week on from the first day at HQ's in Redchurch street and an album sounds to be recording itself or so. A tall young fella from the New Musical Express turned up in Whitechapel today, and we gassed awhile in The Blind Beggar, his little dictaphone looping the Bilo for all honesty and a sense of gin as I potted the black in the final flicker of the blockbuster 'Libertine versus NME pool shakedown'. Yes, I dragged him to Bow, to Mo (shotting unbeknown to our writer) and a few snaps on Mo's estate - wherein the playpark of which 'What Katie Did' was wrote what I written der la' after weary takes on lovelorn debacles avec Katie Bresson on the 24th floor
the electricity is about to run out, my phone is fucked, is anyone near can lend us twenty quid?
[edit] November 30 2003, 11:42 AM
In the morning’s store [47]
Were we….. bymaster beddyby and the stuttering hand I lived in a way in the broadest sense imaginable in the ever roundhead staple of other days I went to wash the future of my fates. Revelation! (a fact ).
We sat in chairs by the window, Sean Brady and I in a small room- his room- in a Shepherds Bush basement. True to his form the room was warm and hospitable, a sweet sickly smell of weed and strong coffee fugged the air. He handed me a foil tube.
“Not for me mate, I’m knocking it on the head”
He smiled at my silly remark and handed a strip of stained foil too. I chased a bug long down the sparkly card, inhaling greedily, calming myself from the tremors of recent late. It was his first smile of the evening. Somehow I had felt the need to share with a new friend, desperate secrets I could not face myself to confide in- to burden those I supposed myself to be closest to. I felt a sudden headful of applause, a muted celebration of some unspeakable joy that draped a dark cloth over my suffering. I began to cry, not for the first time that night. To my delight (and subtle horror) and comfort, Sean was crying too. We embraced like brothers.
“I’m sorry”
We both said to ourselves or each other
“I’m sorry”
I had told him of my rape in prison, of the cruel twists of the plot and the ridiculous helplessness and depravity of the scene. Grim pricks of frozen fire ransacked my spine and I hammered at the stone uncovered wall beside the small open fire, like a madman. Sean had spun me around and held me to him and phoned someone who arrived and left by the time I had confided myself in him. Why I told him, I knew why… I knew he would not dwell on it or suggest help, I knew he knew I needed to describe it aloud to a sensitive soul with just enough disinterest not to be obsessed from here on in. He knew that I knew about him too We smoked weed and heroin throughout the midnight hours and then headed for a club.
Walking towards Shepards Bush Green down the Goldhawk Road – land of both our fathers- I felt a self possession my nature reserved for certain company only. We looked at each other with cruel pride: We want a fight we were secretly saying with our eyes ‘we want it to be for a good cause but we want a fight and we don’t care if we get killed’
Invincibility was the theme of the evening. We inebriated ourselves at the scruffy bar of a heaving rock venue, spending the last of our money. This called for some “work” and we recruited a tall elegant youth full of trust and cocaine addiction. With our new friend we ventured to a civilised crackhouse in Kilburn Park Road, where we obliterated the pre-dawn and danced unselfconsciously in a small dark room.
Our moment arrived - the coming of light, the heavy dawn – and the 3 of us tramped across the city all smiles and with sudden solemnity we stood beside the freezing serpentine.
I gave a sermon I remember one Christmas, my old man brought me down here on boxing day… we got the bus from my Nan’s in Cricklewood. It was the eighties, I can barely remember it. I was about 4 or something. I remember he was wearing a cheap squaddies tracksuit. He took it off down to his scuds and swam out in to the water’
Our new friend had wandered off, Sean and I stared out the ducks.
He’s disowned me you know. Says I represent everything he despises in the human race. Says I’m a thief, a liar, a junky
Sean looks at me wide eyed and winking in the sunless light.
‘He knows you then does he...’
I lunge for him, almost playfully, he skips backwards away from me breathless, laughing.
‘There’s not many can say their parents understand them you know…no mate! then
You dirty fucking cunt…as I lobbed a dirty can of Dr pepper from beside the litter bin and spilled on his shoe. He chased me now and caught me.
“I love you boy”
he said.
“No funny business, mind.”
We became the best of friends to the dawn’s delight.
[edit] 11:57 AM
In the morning's store is a piece of writing that all came out in one go. It is not necessarily true, and neither are the things that occur to the characters in it: and in no way is it intended to promote or encourage others to do anything at all relating to drugs. I've made my position clear on heavy drugs in previous poems such as Death on the stairs (it rips the heart of your baby) and horrorshow (its a horrorshow). so don't start...
[edit] 5:56 PM
'do you know what you've done to me Peter?' swinging [48]
her fist for me like mowgli, delerious shrieking crying iphoned her sister to come and get her she's not to stay here i need to be alone here now one room everything disintegrated for months before I've been telling her the tragedy is mammoth fuck the neighbours all this torment Billie Holliday singing after I lock the door to her threats and tears and me reduced to an animal screaming bloody murder murders and torment 'love will make you do things you know are wrong' dragging her to the doormy heart beating so fast dangerous it'd take a million lion tamers to make me pick up the glass and never to put it back together she's been camping on the doorstep or in unsavoury abodes lets say, so young and misunderstood propositioned and groped for at every turn and true love the impossibility of this life
it has been one year and oh my sweet lord jesus what a year
not one speck can compare, not my shame and sorrow to my family and my tears are they real anymore i'll cry them anyway
my sweet lord do i come to you only in these dark hours please watch over her and forgive me if its me that has brought her here like in an inspector calls a certain english terror here in the last outpost of the damned
[edit] 6:01 PM
the last outpost of the damned
wherein i shall play the last post on the bugle
for the last time
before warm applause greets my most certain end
by candlelight I'll chest that ribbon..
to the fanfare of Strange Fruit 'bulging eyes' and the traffic going by and by my window this
Sunday, this strange bitter cold night
[edit] December 11 2003, 6:40 AM
rain is: sky weeping, shame is: rough sleeping, vain is: in an oily puddle peeping
peeping to see the
loose, by nature's
unchanging gracelessness
(opinions differ, self love or loathing
wildly juggled - then how you're feeling
parachuting from high falluting
exultation into glum paranoia) untrimmed
affected scruffiness
of myself rhyming
through the
return from slight sleeping.
Marylebone Road - on the town hall steps
I cotched the night.
cast:
- Liberal Democrat Candidate for 2004 Mayor Elections
- Tamara Beckwith
- Mark fromThe Dash
- Peter Doherty
- YMCA charity team raising awareness for homeless youth schemes
- Assorted press and adventurers
- Homeless people who regularly sleep on that spot
Before 11pm a rush of flashing bulbs and then we settle down for the night. By 5.00am 7 of us remain - including the two fellas that 'live' there. Rain has dispersed the cacoons - sleeping bags with caring souls in.
Return through strangely shadowy east London, soaked heaving lungs to the merry bone from the marylebone walk
extended highlights:
Carlos turned up with brandy and garlic bread at about 2.00am and entertained adoring scatterred crowd with seamus dancing and gossip, bulging eyes and earnest derangement
Severe abuse from occasional carload of savage wits
Anneka and Goatty?
half hour sleep, waking soaked from rotton visions.
!"£$%^&*()_
Last post on the bugle is sounding boss
Likely lads will be finished today
23rd shaping up to be a christmas cracker
(Peter went crazy with the paragraph break key here, so huge amount of space - Ed.)
godhelpus
[edit] December 11 2003, 10:34 PM
(to Kirsty W:) aha, dare ye are yiz blighter.. when you're off apace in cyberspace whacking up scans of the infinite and the ramblings and the bawd I imagine you as a female unarmed version of Mike Tv from willie wonka and the golden ticket lotto. Look ma, I'm on Tv, or ON A TV as Mr Masters might have it. Dommle.. are you aboot the noo?
[edit] January 1 2004, 12:56 AM
(Peter notes that he cannot access his Hotmail account and gives new email: babyshambles@ntlworld.com)
[edit] January 2 2004 at 8:54 PM
Stella Kosenius... [49]
there are no words for the happiness you brought.. but thankyou and...wait a sec
[edit] 3:49 AM
I'm Grenville McTavish (says my necklace
Ramon Allones Habana, but in capitals and in red and upon the drawbridge lid in the midst of embossed gold and waving motifs and after its time in my hands a beloved, scuffed, knowing look about it.
The detail and charm of the splendid gift.. the little miniture Libertines.. looked just like carl, even down to the stain on the tunic and the eyes. I smell of plasticine too... and the mini-LP, with a barbie's vinyl within and Grenville McTavish I named the plastic silver crucifix - really the perfect companion for a plectrum with tippepexed relegion.. and a pink cigarette box adorned with arcadian collages and riddles full of temples.. grey union jacks and dried leaves and flowers.
The glass boxes worlds of their own, I dared to open, metal bamboo for a frame and ... feel free sweet crafter to send more, enriching the albion rooms sideboard.... )
[edit] January 9 2004, 8:17 AM
hairthickening, morning thin alleys and denim sins in doorways, yours, a scruff in Paris [50]
well motors awake and calm street of petals strewn and disinfectant serious city if it's not dark now but is, and I'm alone but not then.. well the moon was strung up in the sky like a last nights wonderful idea that the sacred heart had gone wholly without doubt obedient restful companions devoted diners and melodic somnambulists owt to fret upon save all torments there there afore ye go all before you the beats spun out out like endless poems and in the warbled americana of the potbellied parisian crazyassed pilots of their own bigamy (it's bigger than both of us baby) and pre-war arcady this dream will curtail your dry viewing
wavy grave hair
black netted mourner
tales of a
youth kicking out and
the world kicks back
much much
harder
we arrived here here four days ago
Parisparis
paris paris
paris
8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888_
__________________________________________________
'Ouverture' by Bilo
broadly then drawing in a chinaman's grin was what they called it, slit the revenge in two and in familiar circles notch the coversation with hilarity remorse. It's not all photobooths, chasing shnapple and drunken toasts to arcady round here, in three rooms. Confidence tricksters, natural born killers, pinkpanthers, sleeping and eating are the themes thus far. But for a whole album... I'll whip this drear prose into shape yet, my hands frozen, sockless I waited in the half light for you, in the cold morning under the old moon on oily steps. I'll wait forever. He thinks I'm a fool, just because we have never met, because I don't know what you look like he says you dont exist. Well... I've read Anais Nin and the beats and the tropics and I've seen enough reflections in metro train windows and truffaut films and I know roughly what not to expect
Kirsty Kirsty we've a book for you
the biggest yet
also please take out from last lot
Carl will come to Middlesborough with me dear Gaz - we must speak you and I
[edit] January 15 2004, 2:06 PM
c'est parfait or thereabouts
[51]
Douglas, making up for my stalking him around east London and Bermondsey flophouses putting together a pamphlet about the beautiful fella ex of Jesusandmarychain oblivion and arcadian divinity is following us up north eastwards with his supereight. Magee in tow planning the coming war as we train it northwards. Adventure aboard the albion, happy godiva days, and how to quietly dispose of Banny who is clawing on to ourfast shreddinleather tails?
[edit] January 20 2004, 11:36 AM
...somesay he's sweet, though rarely discreet. (Some say feevin' bloodclot weirdo) [52]
The new lock is smithed ad keys jangle in my dry hands. I blinkly long and lengthy winding lights and under-lid shards of this scarf curtain room, cooling with little rainy flights in the all around the sky over Darling Row and Whitechapel
Today, I pray, we'll sooner or later meet at HQ's in Redchurch street to knock out the B-side for For Lovers: 'Back from the dead' - a rare breed, being a Doherty/Barat/Wolfe songle. Then on to Paris, and album schemes, arcady and perhaps romance for this my heart yearning for impassioned acquaintance anew since torrid love's loose flailig limbs has batterred my bonce once too often this infinite smack and tickle of eventide and crack of dawn fraternity, caving in rubble on the community of ghouls and giffers.
Last night, before the rudimentary domestic despair, gangland adventure and darkening shadows on the tenement stairs of my waking nightmare, Babyshambles first single was completed.. a 7" A side/B side:
Babyshambles / At the flophouse
out soon on High Society (7" only) and Rough Trade (c.d format inc. extra trackle poss. Campaign of Hate)
speaky soon, my sweet reader that ye are I wager.. and also to ask Miss Sophie Thunders and K-fairy Hannah, your genius girls is required for artsitic takes on Bilo's shambles / lovers artwork ethic
come here........
[edit] January 23 2004, 6:42 PM
France Albion Hotel.... but where else could we stay?
[53]
returning to friendship, oblivion...
The Libertines
France_Albion Hotel
11 Rue Notre Dame de Lorette
75009 Paris
[edit] January 25 2004, 11:21 AM
Bigelles est malade... [54]
Dear All,
a night of arcadian revellry and song wizardry and alas the trough between then and next when was a deep one: all my sense says keep close watch but not annoy.. dear Carl is ill, iller than ever even. His spirit when flailing can fall lower than you or I may shreik to e'er dare dwell on lest darkness nip all hope in the arse.
I do meander and spout I know I know but I mean it (man). In prison, letters came to me from all quarters and a more uplifting ting in those dire circumstances than opening a letter with your name in ink upon I can hardly think of. Not least when the letter scrawls across the page with love, fervour of heart and scribe's art, silly pictures and filthy suggestion. I say this:
Bigelles is in a prison of his own, some dark stinking cell in a land that friendship has no immediate application for visa for it seems. Self doubt is pinning self esteem to the floor and pumelling the shite out of the poor sod. I... well I can't...he's not right at the moment
This isn't boo hoo poor wee rockstar depressed snap out of it you miserable so and so. This is a sensitive fella, coming out with some dark twisted reasoning all along the road to history repeating itself you get me?. Let arcadian angels guide your pen and your stamplicking tongue and send him some cheer from blighty. He is bedbound and all a fever.
Peter x
[edit] January 30 2004, 5:32 PM
Dear Uncle Reg, the moon elegant over Paris and I
[55]
am summoned to calm at long last..this a beautiful introduction to the evening. A stroll in arcady is a stroll up and down these magical streets, in and out of infinity, all in a glance. New mispelt friends untold, likewise serpents hissing the cobbled maze. Theatres, tin cans, moustaches and pedal scooters. So I spent all my money on a pen? Here's why.. I'm off up to the sixth floor to contain myself on the lanky blank pages of the new pink Livres de brouillon Albion.
I shall be receiving guests tonight.. a young band called the Parisiennes. Yes they wear gaffa tape and longjohns. Carlos met them stalking him outside the hotel. We have outweirded them, taken them on adventures, and adopted them somewhat. They come in every colour and even have bowler hats and pretty faces. Come one come all, whilst Biggles races to Londres for crisis after international crisis, Bilo isz calling on a grand debauch.
toodle pip and up yours (would you beleive it, I'm happy or so in extremities)
Peter Doherty GCSE
[edit] February 3 2004, 10:24 AM
Oh whats the use/ brown and gout in Paris and London / horse does coldturkey_ hip hurray
[56]
Well well we were left alone in the albionès top floor suite. Bigelles made a break for London, to face up to his demons and all the hell broke loose as the lyrics and life prophesized in Begging were finally fulfilled.
Does it all work out?
He was there for me
you were there for him
he was there for her
I am here for..for you
and noone cares about the other
so I got it into my head I had to score and score but or run away somewhere anywhere.... anyone with a lonely country retreat in spanish mountains or french arcadié?
but I locked myself in with three days worth of a guitar and bathtub spoony sweat phantom blind porn scouring the forces balcony bilo blues choked and broke on through to the other side. And here I am.
To tell you what?
A gig tomorrow night (but of course)
ACOUSTIC SHAMBLES
à cafe Bergerac
(next door to Albion hotel)
Bigelles got his mail _ appreciated beyond all measure you wonderful lot.. but do not expect a reply.
[edit] February 3 2004, 10:51 AM
Reflected Horror (by Charles Baudelaire - Ed.)
[57]
From that sky, bizarre and livid,
Distorted as your destiny,
What thoughts into your empty soul
Descend? Answer me, libertine.
- insatiably avid
For the dark and the uncertain,
I shall not whimper like Ovid
Chased from his Latin paradise.
Skies torn like shores of the sea,
You are the mirror of my pride;
Your vast clouds in mourning
Are the black hearses of my dreams,
And your gleams are the reflection
Of the hell which delights my heart.
[edit] February 14 2004, 6:08 PM
kirsttykirstty whack up fragility
[58]
and also or so kentish toon forum dvd's and shambles demos for downloads n forthwith for this site. MaGee'll turn a blind eye, or play act there's a buzzing horsefly distracting him whlst we make it all available on here this the glorious dustmagnet socket inspired sorow for nowt but dear
lordy be would you cop a barrow load after barrow load of fucking filth and shite poured like hells rain dreary n callous n sordid response to young enthusiastic conmenn or are it preachers o'word spelling out wonder and blissful sinking whip tail slashes and simple ideas espousing pleasures that never make things easy for the simple, forgetting your average brittle boney honey just like m o n e y and the stick experiment on bright dumb gottle of gear blonde nigger I'm coming off the h biggles lot we must act with clinical callous precision and fastly
peter x
[edit] February 22 2004, 5:17 AM
oh my
take him back to the knackers yard
you oh what
so what?
another day another dollar
another squalor
'don't ever say sorry,
don't apologize for anything'
who said that to me ?
that wince of your past antics is but a hint of your quincen mead
digest your quince
and dont mince your words
it ain't half hot mum
I'm so fucking sorry
I'm so happy
up the libertines and up the bracket forever
and a day
now then..
up yours
it gets easier, gets harder, gets easier
strike up the band!
[edit] February 24 2004, 4:07 AM
What I tell you three times is true what I tell you three times is true what I tell you three times is true
I love you
I tried to get Hayley to respond to your 'advice' or so. She refuses. She seems happy enough at the Albion rooms, certainly there's plenty to distract her from any high class contradictions and hitches in our romance that may or may not be queing up at the tenement door.. a disorderly shadow length reality of dulling sounds, like hollow potbellied metal bins and bikechains ripping off of lamposts
I love you
candles putting the shadows to bed stretched out on sheets ruddy with luminous blood, wax, sooty smears (my attempts at cleaning up foiled again) rum, whiskey in tin mugs, an eternity of cigarettes and all the blinking eyes in the world couldn't shed enough tears to trace an oceans outline of regret for: the imagination, or a voyeur's conscience or disturbed men with beleif in them-ridiculous-selves
I "£$% *&^
[edit] February 27 2004, 5:20 AM
Re: Peter, thank you so very much [59]
aaah...and...
and from the bottom of my heart: thankyou yourself.
something likethat makes things worthwhile
in the sweet by and by we'll taste on our bloody gums and lips the truth behind all of this .. I'm eating breakfast cereal, I can smell disinfectant and hear steel drums and familiar voices, must to the guitar....
x
[edit] February 28 2004, 3:49 PM
The Likely Lads
Carl:
A
please don't get me wrong
E
see I forgive you in a song
they call the
Bm
likely lads
D / E
but if it's left to you
we know exactly what you'd do
with all the dreams we had
together:
D - Dm
but blood runs thicker oh
we're thick as theives you know
A
if that's important to you
(it's important to me)
I tried to make you see
B / E
but you don't wanna know
Peter:
If you pipe
all summer long
then get forgiven in a song
well that's a touch, my lad
they sold the rights to all the wrongs
and sold him for a song
but oh the fun we had
blood runs thicker etc
A
what became
of the likely lads
E / D
what became of the dream we had?
what became of forever?
what became of forever though? we'll never know...
words and music Doherty/ Barah
sounding good in rehersals today, new stylee and tempo.
Also please vote for me on XFM dosh thingy and I'll have a right old knees up for the lot of yiz yiz drunken druids that ye are
[edit] March 14 2004, 8:52 AM
Mourning Earle [lonely writing in the early morning] [60]
What queues were they? (s'hard to say)
Queues from dreams my mind replays
Kept hidden for dozens of yesterdays
Winding rigid like fisher price snakes or some such and you hold them by the tail and they point out and not to floppy be
but waggle and so mechanically-
Remember? Do they have a name? Those plastic snakes waggly rigid almost magic like they propel themselves to sway and waltz in thin air, the body and head all linked segments. The queues though.. for a display, maybe a museum in the sinister partitioned town. Later on I acted an age and ran from each scene in the dream to another, in full QPR kit.
Oh chicken... meaning my love not coward (or bird) (although saying that..)
I can read between the lines, and can reckon with misunderstandings and faux pas etc as well as the next fella…but what got me and in the gutty way I hate, was the way her brother made a joke out of what could never be a joke. A murder – a murder of a teenager – a murder and a family home burnt to the ground, and a toddler shot dead and police corruption, used to illuminate cheap puns and how thoughtless mostly is that?
'Don't be so fuckin uptight Pete' was his response. Yeah, alright PAL, excuse me while I throw up all over
Harlesden's black or afrocarribean or how is it proper?) community rallied round that afternoon. Families who were sworn to loathe one another over ancient pettiness and babies and rival dealers were arm in arm on New Road.. Crowding the churchyard and sweating out their grief beneath heavy suits on a muggy summers rainy day
the thin legs of two of her outcasts are what this paragraph clumsily cops a feel for...Strangers to each other: voodoo eyed sp'rew stainy mystics scuffing the gravel by the garages dancing. Two men with beards and tins of beer - impossibly they never met before or after the day of the funeral.. Their oblivion is genuine,
'wa gwa?n tha lor showmercy evatime.
Takes all a England twenty years to wake up to a idea me show yoo clippin a saven
Yoot wi gons shootin . me no reason boy
It was a day all on its own, in gloomy isolation from the rest of the calendar, from the rest of ever all time. Clouds spelt out E A R L E and crowds swirled ghostly and whispers shreiked through streets like speeding cars suddenly slowing down and silent as they disappear forever
Within rage and regret and guilt and bleak bleak sorrow. Without any excuses, announcements, ideas for the future.
Unpleasant as this is gonna sound now ...generally me and Old Joe, who were on grave duty that month, were quite buzzin about funerals because we got massive tips from the grieving families as we rolled our sleeves up and filled in the graves with soil. On this occasion we were both numb and wanted to be a million miles away. At that time I had just finished my A-levels and was kipping on my nan’s sofa in her Dollis Hill council flat, working at Willesden Green cemetery. Trying to suss out what the fuck to do, university in September? What about hooking up with that Carlos fella my sister knew and getting a band together. He was such a good guitarist and England was starved of the kind of songs I somehow knew the pair of us could craft. Wasn’t I saying all this before to some girl? I stopped at one point and asked if she minded me rabbit on and on about my past. She said no, she loved to hear me talk.. but how sarky she sounded.
How genuine are
these birds draped about the albion rooms, many of whom pretending not to know they’re roundabout beautiful and desired and present themselves in mock shocked monologues when confronted with many a variety of man’s vulgar or charming or subtle or sickening show of that desire. From phwoar suck such and such to poignant lyrical serenades, all of mankind has a go from time to time.
northern girls and proper London girls seem a little more on the ball but make it hard work ....you have to shovel acres of sarcasm and confrontation and accusation out of the path before they show their true sweet affectionate selves sometimes
Anyway where was I, right here I suppose, rambling nothing to type whilst mourning what never was in my heart. Timeless boohooing about biggles not being my mate. Never does owt to reach out to me, loves me but doesn't like me. No birthday pressie or even message or anything since I left dressing room at Brixton on Sunday. But this is normal and so why now let it upset me? Because.. well it's obvious. Are we making an album? Either way I’m gonna make some records this year, with or without.
The one true horror is that if I was to be true to myself as an artist, as a man, as a Libertine, I would not work with the band as it stands anymore. The release and the liberty of the other path ie babyshambles, peter Doherty solo whatever is immense I can feel it from this side of the barbed wire, like in the cell in Wanno last year. Like a weight off me poor old boney shoulders. But so many young and old desperately keen on the four of us and how wonderful to give that rare pleasure. I was wrong in hoping, as we entered into plan A, that me wandering off as I fancied would be encouraged, given my constant lyrical melancholy and rage about the whole artifice – 'its eating, chewing me up.. the scene is obscene' and what have ya. Hmm. I need to speak to the boys before I go nuts. Maybe I don’t know what I'm talking about. Maybe they know how I feel but are holding out at whatever cost. We have a good thing going etc etc , but fuck me he's a difficult man to love and he gives me nothing. I go through each day and am twisting up, when I finally, fully unwind it will be furious, disastrous, dangerous, spectacular...
Found some scribbling diarylike from ages ago: what do you think?
Peter: “So”
Crosses legs, belt undone.
“What did you say to Lisa?”
Glances sarcasm
“Go on, tell us”
Nadine: “Erm, we talked about [pause] Katie, erm just you know sort of small chit chatty, people we know really, sort of regaling tales, laughing at stupid stories. The time at the monarch. Me, Rose and Hannah. She was like:
“C’mon girls, party”
And I was like:
“No I wanna go home”
I’d been up for days. It was good to talk. Girly conversation. I’m so used to people dismissing my comments, I’m more of a listener though. Your sister was nice though.
How about you mister?”
She comes over to me, in short shorts and an “I love NYC” vest, stroke head and sweet kisses. She sits on the on the chair’s arm, I press my head and hear her heart beating.
She sings:
“And I…. beginning to wonder.”
Gently rubs her finger against me. She was a cat some life ago and stretches, prowls to the bed, glances at herself in the mirror.
“I can’t believe I always used to wear shorts like these.”
The room is gloriously tacky deep red, my blotted senses blunt must be to beg so heartfelt of the girl on the bed that tonight as I sleep, would she suffocate me?
Window shaped mirror. She is innocent, naked astride me and the covers.
A pipe results in smoke clouds and a wee cough.
Catlike she’s on and off the bed for water.
“I’m losing my voice – again”
Coughs.
“I don’t sound like a man do i?”
In profile her face, collar bone, all her body dark skin orange and black in the electric light. I like it when she patters her lips.
“I feel like a cat more often than not”
And often is, softened the dark hearted mood by her touch, and so warm her long body, deep brown unsolved eyes.
“I could have sex all day long. All night. All day.” Yeah, I’m sure.. sorry love..
Just a bit too curious she says, which is the thing that killed the cat.
Inside her, old and new shadows, my breathing roaring tides distant to sound like nothing from this distant.. For the first time I wanna pack it in. I’m dying, kids!
No matter how open minded you are… oh no, it’s how to dismiss certain stereotypes.
She’s round my shoulders, you couldn’t act if you had those stereotypes.
Girls don’t want me to get my haircut, words create memories and emotions. Timeless and ambiguous, transcend. Any time, any era, a good haircut like good writing.
The more we are exposed to, the more cynical we get.
Being an artist one has to use ones imagination.
Transported somewhere, if its effects affect you.....
“Some are very deep, some for the moment only, different uses for different art.”
Gestures, altogether she embraces the mirror.
"I’ve stopped now, I’m at the end of my ramble, come to the end."
Geyser lying dormant then erupt or volcanic to mean the heated explosion all in flow...
I see her upside down, newgates knocker, black hair curling down, beautiful hands gesture long finger as she talks of Prague. Hand on hand. She is stood behind me on the bed bent forwards.
“and you mister, wouldn’t you wish to change anything about yourself?”
“Sometimes I have a haircut.”
“Lets go strolling.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“Actually, we’re really near Little Venice. I love it down there in the summer. Boozy and Gin”
I stretch and sigh.
“That’s quite a questioning sigh.
You’re like a magpie. You pick up things, everything around you you draw into yourself like a child when it’s learning.”
I think funny (or is it) thoughts.
Her sight without contact lenses is either:
“A soft focus porn film or as you focus a film camera just before the focus sharpens or the old church cathedral statues, made out of limestone, like at when acid rains, like poured down on them. You can still tell the gargoyle’s a gargoyle, you can still see the features but everything’s worn, weathered and just like, smooth or like a Monet painting. You see that it’s an flower but not in a lifelike way, smudged…Or looking through a car window covered in (like) dust or through a fog translucent, like smoked glass.”
“What’s translucent?” Ask I.
She tells me.
Sleeping with eyes open, she speaks of.
I think of her asleep, lids flicker and the whites of her mince pie webbed lightly with blood, bring to me fear and terror there to lay in bliss and imagine horror when she sleeps, eyes open slightly.
I wonder, does she think it strange of me writing like this as she speaks or sits silent knee splendid bent unposed smiling on the squeaky bed.
I remember another who lived the poetry that no other man dare even to write unless it was just imagination or genius with bills, indulgences, etc. Whilst others wrote poetry they never could live, perhaps I am the latter. Or once was. Or later to become.
Or to write the poetry one lived, unnecessary this or impossible to write as one lives.
Upon reflection, I did not know myself but became vague or almost familiar with the darkening shadow.
I have her phone now for days and days, bought it back off ___ after being surprised to learn that ____ had swapped it for a rock or so.
“Have you got that little bit I gave you before?”
“No I wouldn’t do that!”
“What?”
“Oh right…Yeah, I thought you said I’d done it.”
Agreements on calamity.
“I’m deaf. I’ve been going to gigs since I was 13.”
_____ knew the accents immediate,
[edit] April 11 2004, 10:42 AM
further looping the bilo [61]
solo bead mimic's a tear
the sweat's melancholy cousin
the bilo hasn't a hope in his rigid
hell of heavenly song
mines his carved in stone nothing
from deep underground and hollow he reaps
blank fields of I suppose you could call it liberty
(but it is not [isn't] free)
I'll tell you that for nothing
[edit] April 18 2004, 1:15 AM
Re: ideas of arcady and albion
(In reply to Carly, who claimed to be the niece of Patrick Walden and asked how to explain Albion to her mother:)
Albion is our vessel, Arcadia is our destination, and our starting point. One needn't have a classical education or an British passport.. only an imagination. Let it be what your heart desires, but let not your actions or desires infringe upon the liberty of others, and defend your own liberty to the death: the ultimate liberty given many cultures interpretations of 'the other side'. How do you see 'death'? (i'm not being gloomy, just curious..)
(Followed by much poetry about Albion and Arcady, both invented and transcribed, and the revelation that Patrick Walden's niece reads albion_fic. See: [62])
[edit] April 20 2004, 5:41 AM
found in translation... [63]
INTERVIEW
The Libertines|"We are different from everybody
The London quartet arrives at Bilbao to unload its ' Up The Bracket', a chirriante, efervescente, pop work and punk; that is, that very new wave
ÓSCAR CUBILLO
The Libertines in concert.
The most recent sensation of the British scene takes care of by The Libertines and it is released tomorrow in Bilbao (Azkena, 22,00 hours, 10-12 e; telonea the sexteto of Liverpool The Bandits) to create atmosphere with respect to the first Wintercase festival, that in December will bring to Vitoria to Thin names of the pop indie like The, Death In Fertile valleys, Dot Allison, Saint Etienne, The Flaming Lips, Imperial Teen, Armed Groove or the Good Life.
The quartet that occupies to us exploded in June with single What To Waster, produced by Bernard Suede simple Butler and chosen of the week by the Musical New Express, that blessed describing it it like "one of the best subjects of rock of the last times". Soon, the London Libertines confirmed the expectations with another simple, Up The Bracket, already produced by Mick Clash Jones, compared with the Help of the Beatles, and still more climbing in the Pérfida Albion.
Its first length also is titled Up The Bracket (Rought Trade-Sinnamon), he is chirriante and efervescente, and pop simultaneously that punk; that is, that very new wave. It shoots without flesh color to the Jam and to the Clash, it sounds like a Dexy's drunk Midnight Runners, anecdoticamente, it is unplugged like the indies, and Scandinavian the infectious voice remembers the Monster. In addition, its company mentions other also valid comparisons: Smiths, Yardbirds, Kinks, Who, Only Ones or Sex Pistols.
Winning enemy
Pillamos we to Carl Barât (voice and guitars) in the heat of European tour and shot with arrows to him with a questionnaire that answered with own the chulesca and displicente pose of Liam Gallagher Oasis and that is gaining them so many enemies, now that begin to take off. "we were in Basel, Switzerland, in a shutdown of truck drivers, way towards our skittle of tonight. We are surrounded by miles of railway routes in disuse ". Then pongámonos the lap belt.
How you mounted the group?
We were decided to already create the band some years ago because we were amuermados and we loved an a the others.
It is first or you have touched in others previously?
Yes, we were in others, like The Bapmen, The Bangers and The Neon Bangers. Of course, all was inept ships for the creation.
What means your baptism?
That '? Perhaps you do not know what means?
Bond. You also are libertine?
We are something different from everybody, we hope.
Your favorite bands?
The Bangers, The Specials, Julio Churches, The L.A.'s...
The Libertines.
It would be possible to be said that you sound like a Rancid of brit pop? That is which totally you are influenced by the Clash, but instead of punk you touch pop?
No.
What you sing in Horror Show, a luck of tribute to the Clash?
It was obeying your mental instructions on how walking slow, but surely, towards my own death. Yes, it was a screw that aimed at my head... and hit (clash-up).
How you signed with Rough Trade?
We were visited in three occasions by querubín of the hair rubísimo of Rough Trade before it invited to us to... ejem... Before it invited to teach to us to him what we had. A little time later gave to something of money and a ray us, and removed What To Waster.
That was first single. And how you feel now, being last hype, the great sensation of the United Kingdom?
We felt alive. Not very often the things have gone us better. Good, in case, they have gone to us better sometimes. We felt like confused young people, neurasténicos and.... Still I have doubts on if we are last hype in England.
L to great swindle
And what you think when they compare your Boys song In The Band with the Help of the Beatles?
That that does not have any sense.
How it has changed to your life in the last months? You have more paste, you bind and more guateques more?
We have given mogollón of skittles. We have been touching almost every night during last the ten months. Thus it is our life: to travel and to give concerts. We survived solely, or something similar.
That is to say, that no longer you will maintain your uses, if you have had them sometimes.
I am mailman and Peter (Doherty, guitar and voice), that is to my side, is a poet. And, good, we have a great swindle in march.
Your first single produced Bernard Butler, of Suede. So that '? What type of person is Bernard?
A horseman is everything the perfeccionista Bernard. We are very proud of first single. It is allowed us to be it? Aside, also we are it of the voices of What To Waster.
Man, I would be prouder to work with Mick Jones that with Butler. How you contacted with Mick?
In fact, the one was Mick that was put in contact with us. It appeared in our premises of test with a plate of What To Waster and a tin of Heineken Cold Filtered. He had heard the scale models thanks to his Jeanette friend, of Rough Trade, and commented that he understood from where we had left. That was sufficient for us.
Wrinkled sandals
It has been important Mick in the sound of the first album? You are happy and contentments with him?
Yes. It produced it as it required each song. And we are happy with the disc only some days. We have listened to it this morning while it caressed golden braids of Fraulein Dankeshnickle.
One of your two singers remembers me to the one of Monster, a wonderful band of the Swedish seal Burning Heart. You know it? To me it enchants to me.
It had never heard of her, but it sounds very flattering. They have CD?
Yes, a pair. Of what your letters go?
We have reproduced them in the libreto to avoid questions like these.
Already, but they are written in plan very blotted punk and.
Good. It is more important what you say of our letters.
And what you would say to which assures that the Libertines is a band of singles that strains mogollón of stuffed in the album?
It would say that they give them... Bah, no, in fact, would not deign to respond to me to the trivialities of which they have commercial and expensive mental empanada of ferret.
You are a band with attitude?
One is not about my attitude, but its attitude, and now it no longer wears hat.
How it will be your skittle morning?
Regal... Let us hope.
Who are The Bandits, your teloneros?
I have heard that is scousers (of Liverpool), just as the mother of Peter. Singers and soñadores with wrinkled sandals.
[edit] April 25 2004, 7:02 PM
the ha ha wall [64]
I'm empty lost alone won't someone heed my call
[edit] May 3 2004, 3:11 AM
sunday morning [65]
‘’In Basing Street, Island Records studios was it? Portobello way or so, a little demo ing studio. Bob Marley used it, when I met him there then… were of they both recording albums at the same time there, ‘’end of ‘77 maybe..78’’
‘you met him?’ I say asking
‘yeah, played pool with him’ then his love:
‘I couldn’t believe it when he introduced me to him, he was so small’ both titter ‘you always think people you see on stage are bigger’
(re-reading it at 3.08 am on the way to the studio Peter says I can't call it a demo studio, he says I was half asleep..if things are going out on the net under your name..youre not scared are you?' he asks me,
the beautiful madman
‘do you remembe r how you were sat?’
Peter Perret leans towards me slightly, tilts head and smiles warmly ‘where in the room? What position?’
z: 'who was there more to the point. '
Turns out to be a fella the mention of him shivers shiver me timbers it’s the one who sold the tackle to sid that done him in to the point and chants of murder have been the result of many accusations given for the drunken ‘confessions’ bloated american kennel pork
‘couldn’t believe him killing her’
‘she would have driven him to it’
‘even if he’d been driven to it it would have been a pathetic lunge’
‘hew said he didn’t kill her, said someone else did’
‘you don’t remember’
‘well that’s what he said in the papers and that film they made’
‘yaeh’
‘wasn’t there someone else there? I mean she used to beat the shit out of him didn’t she’
Oriental dust tins pattering around brass guitars arrow mystically pointed distant eastern lamp
‘hey dear you’re just instrumental
Just instrumental’
‘Video cameras had just come out, and she’d come over and I was makinga porn movie. Zina had just had peter and came in at one point carrying the baby, and right at that moment I turned the camera round and she discreetly walked out.’
‘I couldn’t believe it.. Him pointing a camera at me.. It was like come on ..make a movie of my life, entertain me’
‘he could have us over, documenting’
‘I trust him, he’s my friend, aren’t ya?’
‘yeah mate ‘ I say
Talk of peterwhitehead, his years away from the camera catching falcons, his not being an albino.
Jumping trains to the isle of white festival, had not a penny, but got there and all the way back. They crawled along under the ticket window, amongst the throng.
Oh baby why don’t you kill yourself
Once I had a misson
Turned into affliction
You never listened when I told you it was terminal
Demons sent to tempt you
Fire wouldn’t melt you
I woulda helped ya but you always did cry wolf
Why don’t you kill yourself?
You aint no use to noone else
I heard you had your stomach pumped four times already this week
You chose to gamble with love and you just been on a losing streak
Further Sid stuff The Living Dead ‘Peter Perret, Sid Vicious, Jonny Thunders, Kelly drum, bass player varied between Alan and Henri Paur and Sid… then I think Steve Jones and Paul Cook did one gig with him. The
‘so marianne, sorry Suzanne that’s jonny’s girlfriend livd him last tjree years
Couldn’t afford teeth for kid, told to fuck off’
‘what’s the point in doing a benefit if it’s going to people that the person who died wouldn’t have wanted it to
‘hustled to get those tapes off me. really insulted my intelligence ‘oh can I borrow them’ ‘
Peter asked to do benefit gigs
‘you know after he died I was asked but I was always curious
‘he had a daughter?’ says I
‘yeah.. That was the only time he was happy. By a Swedish girl… ah..
I slobber
Fags and bottle pipes minature bottle end
My hair disciplined and in extremis gloating over my ragged
Roughened body and heart
Sons of great musicians and I want to contradict zina as she reels me in another odd angle of friend to friend conversing we
‘we discussed it being not weird. I know some one with the same birth day as that. It’s normal’
‘It’s normal’
What are they on about?
Zina explains and the light sarcasm explanatory in her voive
‘my mothers first grandson was born on the 20th june, (my first child) and my sisters first child, born on the 20th June and my brother, my mothers first born was born on the 20th june’
‘Zina there’s 365 days in the year.. And how many millions of people’
Discussions of signs birthdays in family..I am told there is every element in the family water, fire, earth and air
Four elements
Feb - air amyjo
Mar - waTer bilo
sep -earth mum and dad
Nov - fire Emily
‘I do believe in characteristics you know that’s true’
[edit] 3:14 AM
Protected tenancies
‘you don’t remember before thatcher, reagan, that’s what fucked the world up’ he sees me typing..’fuckin hell he’s writing it down..let’s all jump on him.’
Peter says
‘what have we let into our lives..?’
Tales of the dangers of my passive posture during my latent phase of being kidnapped. Zina rebukes me shoots me down though I’ll defend myself to the hilt. Have I degraded myself so?
£$%^&*: saved her from getting killed, so she could have it onher.
Waiting to happen, not my death (don’t look back into page 16 of the sun)
‘’that’s why I watch countdown, make sure I’m not senile yet. That Carole Vordeman...
’’
I defend the\maths lady, giving a readers digest type biographical spiel about her very humble impoverished beginnings and how she blossomed into a child prodigy, Oxbridge scholarship at 14 or so
Jonny thunders, peter perret, alex Harvey
_____ telling a tale of being trailed and grabbed by some fella, a good friend of a good friend years ago, told her she must be a lesbian refusing his advances ‘dressing like that, who do you think you are?’ Kicked him in the nuts and threatened to call the police. ____ was the _________ bass players, this was one of his mates. ‘That’s the problem you see, dressing in a certain way and people think you’re looking for sex.. Can be horrible bein g a female.’ Think of all the broken hearted days when ______ was raped. Desperate hurt and defiance and confusion in the wake of a crumbling love affair, police indifference and demons by the Essex road tower blockful. Scaling walls and running along sky high planks o’scaffolding, into windows and getting lost reading letters I found in aq skanky old flat….as the fella came home and steve nipping back out the window and along the scaffolding and me hiding in the wardrobe for hours while he had a spank in front of the tele and nodded off listening to a radio phone in show, my silence lost in a shoebox ful of old prison letters
The five rights exercises, I ask if I can join in on the exercise we all trek down stairs peter, zina and I on the dining room gfloor
All arcady upon us, after the exercise one feels exhilarated and energised, clean , pure even, the five rights, our bodies strengthening now as we enter into the pact, finally.. To knock the pipe on the head
And acarry on as we are wrioting and recording tunews
‘My body is a temple’ mimicking the weirdos who go down the gym all the time, protein muscle powders and inflatable six packs.
I feel weightless
Peter (Perret snr) comes back in the room eating potato salad from a tub. Line his body up and one press up for now. He is delicately sculptured,
seemingly agile, and well, how to be precise, not fat, shall we say.
We \will help each other
Lucy lucy lucy why did you go to the papers?
“Look, you're only gonna shout if i phone. You threw me out of the flat and **** hit me, i was fucking scared let alone disgusted at the fact that you both spent £450 of my money on crack and skag. I cant believe the lie i was told about ****** being ________. How do u think i felt? Both of you have used me in the worst possible way when all i ever did was show kindness to you, so i realised the only way to get my money back + piss you off royally, was to go to the papers. You didn't see it coming then? I'm not a walk over. You seriously need to take a look at yourself, the state you've got yourself in is appalling, using people who care for you to fund your dependancy. Its amazing how someone of you're calibre consciously degrades himself so. “
I replied…
“You know I believed that lie too”
___________
The sweet by and by
Sounding grand in the reheasal I dim the lights and light some candles, we’re at rooz rehearsal rooms where Gemma (drums) and Patrick (guitar) both work. Liberlines used to rehearse here in the sweet by and bygone times..
Graham, largely cockney proprietor mental giant wicked bloke as it goies and not just because his daughter is our drummer small world.
Songs they
Never play6
On your radio
As the cobwebs fall on the old shipping wrecker
And the needle skips a groove
But you could download it for free and save some dough
download it for free and save your soul
[edit] 3:15 AM
Jack, what's it to foe or back
Kimberleena ..you janus like
‘you lot’
‘what?‘
‘ ‘
Texts texts from shambling arcadian :
""""the time he held her heart within his hands and the little ones will marry if only he would pick up the phone
when you move down to my hotel chapters and verses oh well
take the train tonight i ll help you get over your emotional crisis i love you fuck everything
take the train tonight i ll help you get over your emotional crisis i love you fuck everything
take the train tonight i ll help you get over your emotional crisis i love you fuck everything
beat myself to sleep to wake up by your side and taste the smoke of your rock
again from the start find a way if only you would try to play your own sweet game and make your dollie stay
the time he held her heart within his hands and the little ones will marry if only he would pick up the phone
your dollie is waiting for her prince... when love appeared to her so suddenly that she still still shivers at the memory""""
"peter I can see what is happenning but it is really an impossible situation.
all your pleasure afficted my pain sentanced my heart, with a flame of your light."
Cyclops:
Fe fi fo fum musket pipe and gun
I'm in over my head
[edit] May 13 2004, 3:08 PM
text us pete [66]
Café 1001, Bricklane
All swamp like and dredged wretched any ol’ state of disrepair cured always by a stroll round Stepney, Whitechapel, Spitalfields on a quiet,, plain sunny morning. The majesty of the city contrasting sincerely alongside the misery. Which in turn stands fearless shoulder to shoulder with the damned and the fucked up irretrievably Strong and gentle the sun , the sun appeared [‘never’ cries a voice from some and where ‘the sun was always a savage molton mass of billion fingy, right headcase. Has gonna to gas and mercury splitti memenr australAAAAAA I once used to go courting with a young lady who worked here years ago. It hasn’t changed ever so much in the four \summers that have passed, though god knows I have changed. Coming in with a few quiAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALove youAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA#
TEXTS RECEIVED this week/end gone
is today the tomorrow we meet as agreed yesterday a few whiles before I'm pissing blood blood before the floor ends and civilization collapsesYeah man thats find nice to c u to c u nicePete im back home ill be leaveing at 2.50 to pick the kids up let me know if your comeing Pete im back home ill be leaveing at 2.50 to pick the kids up let me know if your comeing Pete im at the school ill be at home in 10 min's ok ---- xFulham, Chelsea, Wandsworth recollection you used to hate models lover boy.. came into your psychodelic sahara desert squat glam glitter wiggle walking street porking cheetah Not as yet Tiger, will call again now.come home baby I'm at yours peter xman alive. i know u care. throw ur weapons down..come home from the war..its over & u know it is. astile is standing up next 2 me, against the sofa. he has two bottom teeth. waves bye bye..claps. u must be nuts! seeing these things.. u could be the happiest i miss you i ll be in london all next week...were do i find you want to have breakfast love you Pete where are u if your on Northend road im Droping the kids off at school its on the road op mac's ok No man is poor who has had a Godly mother . .ABE LINCOLN. Call --- , the girls want 2 c u. Xx ET phone home- Peter top of the morning to you, You have some free designer clobber @ Creation office & all of you are getting measured up 4 your suits on Tuesday, call them i ll be in london all week .i ll stay with ----. i miss you cafe de paris 2mrrow night. with love and other big words. mon amour ----- paris i ll be in london 2morrow how do i reach youTell me about leedsHey l'il bro.. You so close but still so far...be good to see you soon before i leave the country....find out tomorrow about colombia job. X Clandestine: secret Put ya feet up,have a smoke and a nice cup o beer,nearly 11.30 and time for the saltpetre radio show! resonance 104.4 fm or online www.resonance fm.com biglovex Pete im going over my Mums in the morning she lives in brixton can we meat then ? Yes i did see the sun and she hopes she never meets me again coz ? We'l leave it at that Winck Winck anyway give a time in the morning before 12 ok bruv luv ya ---- x Yes. Where'l u b? I'll b round there in 45 mins. See u then. Wait for me! I know where u mean i think. On brick lane past rokit..Peter sorted, phone located will get CREATION to pick it up.It'l b more like twenty to two. Slight delay but on my way! (wow, thats poetry for u) xOnce a mod...fancy meeting for a drink later?Call ----. He sorted the car baby. I only fuck myself up...Hi ya hope ur well sorry missed lastnite was really ill hear u got phone,text me number speaky soon,peace,love,empathy,CHEV.x. Hey, just spoken to tess... Back in london eh? With whom? Your my number one chicken. -------- x A golden ticket,willy-wonka style,to steven patrick's homecoming shindig.it will be more than special,as well you can imagine.yours if you want itA week on saturday,may 22nd,in the fair city of manchester(in case u hadn't gathered)shelter for the night is sorted if needs be.1st manchester show in 12years! Oi fucker! I know your on the internet... Reply. Miss ------ x cant get through on this number.call me!u want to do some music on thursday?i tried calling jamies phone again ok man.ill call u tomo.take care!x Caught your attention? Have a good gig tomorrow. Get supplies and elope off to reading. Meet us.meet me. Where iz ye anyway? -------- xPete its ---- ive got a habit i need u to meet me in the morning as im gona be bang in it help me out a text me to let me know your gona meet me dont let me down please bruv ---- xFast asleep! How are you?xPete can you meet me in brixton soon If You.ve dump'd the car how long i cant miss this doctors Not a problem im waiting for youWhere are uPete im waiting for ya hurry up coz ive got to try get a Script off my doctorIm on my way back home nowWhen life knocks u 2 your knees you're in a good position 2 pray. Am praying 4 u my dearest. XOk but hurry up what time will u get herePete where are u?Pete where are uHey peter its ----do you require a car for the Cafè De Paris show tonight ?hiya cowboy i'm livin in arcadian glades and lagoons lap\ like so many tides i'm with: ----cracksmack come nack you black cunt ------ calling bilo are u coming i have to pick up medication at 12.00 but ill b home at 12.30/45 love u man come over bye .The paddingtons are playing at marv's house on de grey street friday and goodfellow ship pub on cott rd tomorrowHi. We are at 25 in the midweeks. Please call. Oi Oi Oi malloy BABYSHAMBLES in at 25 midweeks. rough trade have bottled it pete, they've betrayed you. It's all over now baby blue. Pete, listen.. you're a dead manTa no problem at what time would you like 2B picked up ? And what number abode are you at ? Call me or text me A.S.A.P thanx ----
x
Traffic and sadness, clogging up the city and thinning the good feeling so spread thin
The morning convinces me of my hitherto muted beleif in solitude
[edit] May 16 2004, 9:23 PM
will call you Mañana... ----Hey softlad, im in londinium for one night only. If your around and doing nowt, it would be good to see you and go for drinkies. ill wait for jackson to call me then i ll be straight up to you mate Well mate its not a bad thing ill bring anything you want where is it ?My petree. I'm with the tess and we're all completely pissed. Hope your alright. Cant be easy wit the worlds expectations on your shoulders. We care. Keep in touch. Will let you know when i'm next in the big smoke. Love as always. Missy plinth xPete plz call me need to move your gear. Love SGoodnite brother,luv ya loads & dont forget i'm with u till the wheels fall off Hey,got some photos for ya,might see you in preston (!) hope youre ok anyway.lookin forward to monday! x Hi pete lovely sunny day hope your enjoying it you left me in a bit of a mess over the car luckily my mum saw the car and bought it for me i ve got to sPete board to fuck wanna hang with u Pete what u doin i dont wanna be here Telephone number please.Text me on-07930 ------If to live with passion..All of those in mad house that belived in love.Mon amour jeBless u call u in 15minsOk pete never mind i can take the hint but what do i do with the car if u didnt want it u should have said TEL NO PLEASE i know ur getting my text y wont u at least text me back?Finish early tomorrow...fancy a meet up. Be good to see you billy boy. -----xYeah that one. And, your notebook we scanned. Also got that priscilla vid if you want it.Pete i know You.ve got my messages are u avoiding me ? Just let me know as im Driveing myself mad text me back Hi Petey,I'll call you over the weekend or you can call me I would like to talk.Miss you.x GET IN CONTACT ASAP RE HQ 4 6 3O Man on loose looking for his partner in crime text me .Pete phone me a im on the loose im aloud out to play so let me know where u are ill join ugh. want yr book back? xwas in exam all afternoon.. but, i dont HAVE that much, wish i did.. sorry. i'd think you could make most of that from that gig i was going on about thou Please contact ---- & - asapPete phone me asap its realy important luv.ya Hay pete with the stinky feet rockin to a crazy beat how did the leeds gig go? Everything cool otherwise ? And have a good gig to nite, love jonny Rhythm WHERE RU M8 I REALLY NEED 2 CU CHEV.x.Hay pete with the stinky feet rockin to a crazy beat how did the leeds gig go? Everything cool otherwise ? And have a good gig to nite, love Jonny Rhythm How could you be so stupid to ------ -- ----- -. He’s gonna come looking for you.. Or your girlfriend/s ON MY WAY I KNOWNeed.phone.no.2.spek.2.u.or.c..u,.2morow.8.3o.text.me WOT HOTEL BL?Tel.no..u.sent.me.all.ur.mesages.petes.realy.ill.Mon amour im home Romeo got to get started on those 6 children If to live with passion..All of those in mad house that belived in love.Mon amour jePeter your wife is hereOUTSIDE XXX Im sorry babe. For what? Demands engulf you, bombarding your being and my words, my requests adding to the arsenal and for that i apolgise. I spy, i speak, i meet. When(ever)? N x I came all the way from paris its your turn to come see me..Or at least have the decency to call me..Miss u Peter we have a meeting at Alan McGee's house 4pm Friday afternoon regarding America. Will pick you up at 2.30pm
[edit] May 18 2004, 7:46 AM
still on suicide watch [67]
which is '10 minutes obs' which is '10 minutes observations'. Not sure why.
Evidence of self harm upon my skinny person (circa dlbits totps era when I tried to gauge out 'Libertine' from my arm, and of course the infamous 'can't stand me now reality check Brixton chest slicing bonanza when Biggles sang 'can't stand you now' with such conviction it was enough to send me so far over the edge I could see the wizadry of freckles on the back of my back's back) but nothing could be further from my mind as I awake brighter tailed and bushier eyed than I have done for many a year. Yes children the deleriums and catawailings are giving in to well, Peter Doherty, whoever the fuck that may be.
Nursey still unstill rippled ducky pond afloat paddle pout general urge to go bathing in Hampstead pools. A few weeks yet. Today I'm definately steadier on my feet and shall have a little exploration of this clean place which is probably full of celebrities in towelling robes. Enough to make anyone give up crack and smack. Might even try a few press-ups.... er, yeah 17 should suffice for now. NURSE! where's my applejuice and coffee and biscuit like on the poster....
Now then what about a little roll up and a cup o' tea. Can't be bad. Just shut the door so nursey doesn'tsee. Still on heavy detox tablature. Now then, I do beleive I had a few visitors yesterday. Chev, my stalwart partner in crime and arcadian nourishment, we embraced`teary like late last night as he arrived just in time to be chucked out. probably e'ninstandard`van rubber tyre squeaky burn-upsqueaks all around the forecourt.
Also my sister came, rather unfortunate timing on AmyJo's part as I was er, being comforted by well, my fiance I suppose. You wouldn't beleive me if I told you I was starting a family of six with a french/eastern european lass in a pair of slide on bunny ears and felt boots. But that's just how these things work out.. and just when I was getting confused about being here. Also kimberleena, delaneygirl and jaffahockygirl who all posed as my sisters and ended up stealing my plastic dinner tray and getting chased by a man in a towel from up the corridor. Serves them right, cheeky blighters.
I may venture out of the small vacinity I've thus far been too zonked out to leave, but I've decided to give this crackless life a crack so adieu... a stroll around the grounds is in order. love to the Kirstys, me mum, and where's pandy?
xbilo
[edit] 10:45 AM
Re: text us pete
No no.s for pirates with deceiving white flags. Am soaking horror. sickysweet dense mass of sober road. And solitude. Stay. X Bless u brother i'm so glad ur looking at it this way love ya loads peace,love,empathy,AT DOORthankyou mate, better without magregor hard war 'round eh/ up the bilo boneless fandango!AT PERRET WONT GET ME ANY WHITE !OKRob.,reene.wil.b...wth.u.b.strong.wil.c.u.when.ur.ready.,let.us.know.u.recvletter..pic.luv.----Peter,hope youre doing ok,keep it up,don't lose faith...you make us all proud...all our love,e+s xxxwww.sylviaplathforum.com/tulips.html my little brother got sick&had to be sectioned last year,i used to read this after visiting him.A--- -.xxDid the guitar arrive?I hope we're all still in love and ready to kick the shit out of the the charts. see the first 'shambles went in the top 40 despite rough trades best efforta to keep it exclusaive I hope we're all still in love and ready to kick the shit out of the the charts. see the first 'shambles went in the top 40 despite rough trades best Hey peter...good morning and hope you are feeling ok. Thinking of you...jimmyeffoR.u.awake.Ps.recorwith.Jami.Ali.listen.2.Dylan.im.hot.goin.4.walk.4got.2.tel.u.i.got.atact.yest.was.ok.just.keepin.in.touch.2.briten.ur.day.luv.xe.rspOUTSIDEIF ANY TROUBLE BOUT ME COMING IN SAY GOT VERY IMPORTANT PAPERS 2 SIGN CU IN ABOUT 10Picked up ur goods on my way did not have time 2 go perret's will have 2 do that 2morrow quick as i can sit tight xxx.Traffic bad doing my best 2 b quick ! xxxHi pete how you doing ? I hope your ok im still waiting for pete jackson to get in touch ill be up as soon as he phones me ok anyway jen.kids send there luv x where all thinkin about u so chin up + best foot forward. Read all on baby .com and threads on Ltines.com. What can a mother say ? I send my love ,praying 4 some semblance of sense . . U know right from wrong . .always have. Bite the pillow my son. XSPOKE 2 JAMES SOUNDS COOL NO RULES C WHO U WANT NO GUILT TRIPS THATS THE WAY IT SHOULD B REST EAT AND CONTROL OF UR LIFE ITS WHAT U WANT DONT 4GET TH 5 RITES BLPeter my dearest. Just heard the news. When good will out come away. Dream's will still be here. God speed you chicken. Nadine xME ITS MY GREATEST GIFT 2 U DID U GET PETES NOTE I HATE TEXT TAKES ME 4 EVER REMEMBER WHAT EVER U DO 2 B TRUE 2 UR SELF NO GUILT I CANT JUDGE IM WORSE ANY HOW Pete, hope ur alright! ! Love emma xxHow.r.u.do.u.have..group.theropy.did.u.c.rob.been.on.ur.cite.r.u.joking.luv..xena.thinking.of.uYou ok today champ?R U AWAKE WHAT DO U DO ALL DAY DO U FEEL OK MISS U peter, im sending you all my love. dont quit now - the worst is over. re the artwork.... over my dead body will it be done without you. jeannette xxPete, im getting married today, chev will help you. God bless, pete xNice to know you are dreaming of me...am i allowed to visit you? XXNice to know you are dreaming of me...am i allowed to visit you? XXrude enough high societyup the racketup the chartsup 'em (sometimes they like it)Tough it out tinkerbellWhat would you prefer?Oh happy day ! We love you.Greetings my son. Sending my love. Hope 2 c u next weekend . .dont disappear. X....riiight.. a thunderous text if ever there was one.. damn it I love you you fucking bastardKeeps the big boys on their toes. Should get mix from pezza todayKeeps the big boys on their toes. Should get mix from pezza today
[edit] 11:00 AM
[from hannah]In case of confusion jake was the pirate. Not u silly.
[edit] May 20 2004, 5:51 PM
Re: text us pete
true genious! Take it youve heard about dot cotton being a fan?I know son. I KNOWReally want to know? Watching witchy show 'charmed' and waiting .. for my score(?) glad u ok hows my favorite shirt? Big kiss.Yeah that old bird from eastenders said she was a fan and offered 2 send u 2 some place in thailand!From Bryony Lawson: hello!I know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWI know son. I KNOWwhat time can i come down to c u tomo?patxas the proverb goes....i might b right.....BUT I STILL FEEL LIKE SHI....aaaaahhhhh.....Prayers and love my sonFucking right im coming straight from work dont suffer get hold of the doctor & tell him u need somethingshall astile & i come see u? no worries if ur not up 4 it. he is bloody gorgeous..all blonde. tennis anyone? mamma. xHi Pete, good to hear from you!i think what u r doing is brilliant.stay strong!Let's leave that shit behind us and do what we do best! i want to c u friday if thats cool with u.im really looking foward to cing u.feels like a long time since we last spoke.love pat and nadia.xxDon't you know your intoxicating? Xthe sun? and the mirror, the star, the record ands the sport..Hey pete, its pete here, im still off work but the office are taking care of getting your guitar. I hope you are well, stick with it mate, god bless xJust reading internet.intoxicating..like sweet summer's lingering fragrant opiate lily..or skaggle?I love yHope u r starting 2 feel better pete! Take care. M Peter,cant compete with your fans . .but I love u too. Keep biting the pillow my son. I feel ur pain . .no pain,no gain. It's GOOD 2 feel. Mum.xTis ok u r a ou so much it hurts i never hear of you. we really have lost contact.me and mum will visit u next week.i leave skool in a month and hav a driving test soon-got so much to tell you! im now practically in the army now aswell. i really miss u-having a brother about.hope 2 c u soon x mrstPls get better,if not for ureself then 4 me. i need a bro 2 help me grow up in this mad world,u taught me well when i was younger,i hate skool. What did you say last year? "we're survivors..." Get ready here i come. yer my partner in rhyme. See ya? Bunny ears?... I fear your in wonderland my dear alice. X Can I pop in to see you tomorrow? Anything you want me to bring? Thinking of you Tony xWhat time? Any preference to trunk type? xxWell done Peter.Am annoyed at work but the sun's shining so I've no right to be.love you,x In case of confusion jake was the pirate. Not u silly.I love you you're damning XA Quelle heures?morning peter, how you holding up? do you need anything?(silly question i know). lots of love, jead'accord xSpoken to biggles at all?see you at 5 baby ]‘ ,kohygdeswxd'accord xm/////////////////////gjkloui97890-=-0o987etyuifghjkxfghjxvbhjcvghjsdfghjasdfghjhjkl,’/As in seeping sweet molecular distortion.. Je'taime. The cover may change but the words are the same. Intrinsically fragrant. Do we need to distance? X cvbnmhjkl78ioDreams of me/you. Sweet dreams prince. XOooooooWeeeeHi ya matey hope u had a reasonable day.had a shit day at work just need a goodnites sleep spoke 2 carlos he z hes coming 2 c u again 2morrow i will get ur recoRecording stuff & pop in 2morrow after work anyway say ur prayers & dont forget 2 wash behind ur ears & dingle ur wingle with a tingle sleep tight dont let bedbugs bite.,........nitey nite m8 Rob.x. the Chevster.x.xWhat's up kiddoI'm a comin down on the brown. No change in this old town. Enjoy the clean air, we'll all be here on your rejuvanated return. Havnt they fixed your head yet?right on bro xbrother. kiss.M8 I'LL TAKE A SOLOM OATH THAT IF U AINT I WONT .ON THE ALBION,!!! CU ON THE MORROW SLEEPY TIME.CHEV.xxx.Man. Take a bit of time to see whats around with a clear head. No probs if aint that apealin, you dont have to keep it. Missing you though.well, i sure heard o ol spartakiss but diz a hole nu bawl game sister shawl cross baby with u still x what kind of men are we if we can’t even go a few weeks peter? Some bilo chev restraint needed. Love and empathy and up yurs x chevvy xxHow are you today peter? Thinking of you xStars clouded latent heroin(ism) pertain able obtainable reality check in (not out) I aint so bored, with hancock dvd's and whatnot but man I so sad a little lonely sometime feel weird Goodnight wruel corld from yesterday
[edit] May 21 2004, 10:59 AM
Re: text us pete
TEST ME 2 LET ME KNOW HOW U R LUV Wow.uv.bin.a.wk...well.done.luvI miss you. But glad ur there/here all the same. Which says much to me. X x x x x xHui Peter, its a great night,evthng smell rain clean, Ive just been to a ponsi free opening at Proud gallery, now brown'd up on my balcony ive got a view, v London.. Ive got a great bum!I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour !Clap clap its here, but really Iam trying to do the same as u, so keep cool as coal wish I could give u my crib notes 4 ur homework! Tatibye Darlin I dont even know where Roehampton is.. Anyhow Iam on the other team I'd love to come on tour and stroke the boys that u bum kiss it all better and kick you into starstage where you belong, thanks for asking! Matt that got yer 2 do the first stoke gigHee saucy miss brownWhats my fault?Peter? That shirt? Had been sitting in a drawer waiting for a man who takes a ted to bed. Iam now toast'd (score arrived) call me romantic.. I'd prob ratha You hadnt got the shirt, makes me think we've got to get it together... C if Wolf had it (complicated isnt this?) anyway best wishes use it well.BisouxSleep,sleep beauty bright,dreaming of the joys of night. I wanted to come my love but they told me you were sleeping...So sweet dreams mon amour,rest welBonsoir mon amour.Are you awakeMy thoughts exactly. If you fancy usin the gym i'll come down. Be strong. Xx Shirt smirt. G'luck.Unfortuneately i will be damned as i am in telford!When u coming out d'yer think? Preston gig is the other mattTour schmore. Bandaid savlon. Kick it fucking far then race the flag . You are LOVED !7 is fine. what do u mean aaout them being funny about visitors?do i need to call them to let them know im coming?patxalso gemma wanted to come with me.is that ok?let me know if u want any magazines ,food etc.. c u tomo pete,miss u buddy.x7 is fine. what do u mean aaout them being funny about visitors?do i need to call them to let them know im coming?patxWhat is? I am and do almost everyday. Its a way to be. explore. Yourself. I do. X Where and who should i speak to for libs. Shall i choose venue. Shall i speak to rtrade. Give me a number to call you on asapIn your ear. I send my love with a zigga zig ah. Only you hold the key to this secret. gypsy lady xHey mr. Whats the storyA poem it is of ghostly haunts of hero seeking solace but finding only taunts Written they say by one of those a bearer A dream misspelled and holding only terrorAm in despair,as i'm sure u r, picked up Our Daily Bread . . .when we r weak and in despair, our mighty God IS near, He'll give us strength 'n joy 'hope, A poem it is of ghostly haunts of hero seeking solace but finding only taunts Written they say by one of those a bearer A dream misspelled and holding only terror
[edit] 4:59 PM
I will phone! glad u tx bk,i was worried u wudnt! not 2 clever?-im like that at the best of times so dont worry hehe! miss u loads. xgxYou gonna stick it out brother? xx ...always thinking of youIF U R GOIN 2 B THER 4 A WHILE LONGER WIL CUM 2 C U XGood mornin. How are you today? XxIt is wearying wearing that black crack'd habit. Heavy on the head... (formerly, i hasten to add!)Dear, long time no nothing..pretty pretty outside. Puddles of sighs +warm affection. S- thinking of you xI like the cut of your J I B...UV GOT 2 RELEASE SWEET BY AN BY AS A SINGLE JAMIE WAS PLAYIN IT ITS BRILIANTMe an Pat were gona come c u 2nyt but hes working.can we come c u 2mora afternoon? i got loadsa hugs 4u...hope ur feeling ok..xxHi ya m8 how ya doing just had katie baps on phone wetting her knickers cos jim is gonna meet her 2 listen 2 her stuffSpoke to yr mum yesterday. She seemed well. Baxter dury sends his best as well x The Big Black Smoke
The Kinks
Em Em Em/D# Em/D Em/Db Em/C She was sick and tired of country life Em A little country home, a little country home B Bsus4 B Bsus4 B Made her blood run cold Am Now her mother pines her heart away G D Em Looking for her child in the big black smoke G D Em Em/D# Em/D Em/Db In the big black smoke
Frailest, purest girl the world has seen
According to her ma, according to her pa
And everybody said
That she knew no sin and did no wrong
Till she walked the streets of the big black smoke
Of the big black smoke
BRIDGE: B Well she slept in cafes and coffee bars and bowling alleys Em G D And every penny she had G B Was spent on purple hearts and cigarettes
Ah, she took all her pretty coloured clothes
Ran away from home, the boy next door
For a boy named Joe
And he took the money for the rent
Tried to drag her down in the big black smoke
In the big black smoke
G D Em (In the big black smoke) In the big black smoke G D Em D C D (In the big black smoke) In the big black smoooooke D C D D C D D C D D C D D C D Smoooooke, smoooooke, smoooooke, oh oh, oh oh
Em/D#: 0 2 2 0 4 0 Em/D (Em7): 0 2 2 0 3 0 Em/Db (Em6): 0 2 2 0 2 0 Em/C: 0 2 2 0 1 0 Bsus4: 2 2 4 4 5 2
(from The Kinks Kronikles)
[edit] 9:12 PM
I will phone! glad u tx bk,i was worried u wudnt! not 2 clever?-im like that at the best of times so dont worry hehe! miss u loads. xgxYou gonna stick it out brother? xx ...always thinking of youIF U R GOIN 2 B THER 4 A WHILE LONGER WIL CUM 2 C U XGood mornin. How are you today? XxIt is wearying wearing that black crack'd habit. Heavy on the head... (formerly, i hasten to add!)Dear, long time no nothing..pretty pretty outside. Puddles of sighs +warm affection. S- thinking of you xI like the cut of your J I B...UV GOT 2 RELEASE SWEET BY AN BY AS A SINGLE JAMIE WAS PLAYIN IT ITS BRILIANTMe an Pat were gona come c u 2nyt but hes working.can we come c u 2mora afternoon? i got loadsa hugs 4u...hope ur feeling ok..xxHi ya m8 how ya doing just had katie baps on phone wetting her knickers cos jim is gonna meet her 2 listen 2 her stuffSpoke to yr mum yesterday. She seemed well. Baxter dury sends his best as well xYou are special .. And you have lots of friends so proud of you right now. When you feel well ill take you out eh?I need you to be about for me.. You really are the big brother i never had. You provide clarity.. Ive been lost.. Hence the arms..Hello peter. Hope ur ok? X whats up? Love May 21 2004 at 8:37 PM No score for this post Lady (Login Lady_Green) from IP address 80.0.30.40
Reach for the tree that shades your past. Jealous Snakes,don't let linger and last, my breath is caught when realisation pierces, through the time that unravelled my most insane fierceness, Will love solve this universal disease?
Dipped head, Wincing eyes, polite smiles, She walks. Scarred by fire or words?
Cruelness, tenderness, a fragmented life.
Dreams of conformity,
lies from those who laugh in the face of convention.
Consuming bitterness. It is over.
Paris tower, fashions turned sour....who wants a piece of the power??
Englishmen are the hope of a woman....go back to (ye olde) our liberty re-given
xx
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Author Reply Arthur Lee (Login CaptainTancredi) 80.225.41.75 Re: Love No score for this post May 21 2004, 8:43 PM
Oh, the snot has caked against ma pants
It has turned into crystal
There's a bluebird sitting on a branch
I guess i'll take my pistol
Because he's on my land
Why can't you understand?
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Lady (Login Lady_Green) 80.0.30.40 Re: Love No score for this post May 21 2004, 8:46 PM
Seen love at first sight... the face of your mother,
only to end with one face....your brother.
Uncertain young boy, your demise WILL be,
in the laughing face of your family
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Lady (Login Lady_Green) 80.0.30.40 Re: Love No score for this post May 21 2004, 9:02 PM
hello my only chum,
I trust you are unlike my first friend.
they called him lofty,
I thought you lived in my attic,
then your death was upon my head.
The only lie I ever knew became true.
you, you, you. Can i trust you?
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[edit] 10:17 PM
Take care of yourself.. Me and heypipey are moving to hackney road june1st. So you wont ever be homeless. Love you. XWOT DO U WANNA DO?WOTS GOING ON I DONT UNDERSTANDWOT RU LEAVING IF U REALLY R WALKING OUT ILL PICK U UPWOT RU LEAVINGP, I ment to ask how u finding it, r u ok? School dinners! Have now had tucker 2, greek yogurt and pittas. Letme know. Bye. B so..ur getting hitched 2 rini & running off 2 paris. wish u could have told me, wasn't nice hearing it via internet. anyhow if it makes u happy gd luck. hope urdoing o.k my love. hang in there. LxYou dont want to be a slave to the brown do you? You have everything to live for.. All my kisses to you mean the world. When do you think youll b fit?xWell ur a grown man & ur life is ur own but its only been a week i know ur bored as fuck but please b strong we'll enjoy it more the longer the break am taking us 2 russia..on the back of a white tiger. am even stranger girl paps! nannu nannu! little holiday from the bruno, u can do oh. kiss on ur squashy facce magraw. x remember that wierd indian bloke in Montmartre cathedral? he he. xDo you want me to bring you anything? Just ask like. X Ok well you stick it out and dont forget me through the forever growing crowds of people! Xxx Honest m8 im with u all the way love u loads .xxx
[edit] May 23 2004, 12:47 PM
Re: text us pete
At least let me know ur ok..if indeed u are. X (dont worry, i know nothing!)morning. didn't realise u were with chev. u should have said..was worried. u about 2day? mammar u o.k? please let me know.call me fucker!Carl loves you so much. Call me tomorrow xWhere are you my love?A kiss to drown the sorrow- X. BenU ok? L Gill xtell mamma where u is paps. don't want 2 worry. will come get u where ever u are..if u want ya big silly. xHmm, my flat mate has just said hes moving out end of month, fancy living slap in the middle of Clerkenwell?Of still love you you know ya numpty. Are you ok? XxxxPeter where are you...Call me.RiniCum.home.or.text.me.im.out.b.back.soon.xenaHow you doing my dear? We've just left your bits and pieces at the front desk. Will come back asap. hope you're feeling better. All our love k&k xxxx WHERE RU M8 WANT ME 2 COME GET U ROB.xxx.Been told ur not havin any visitors 2day,but i HAV 2c ya,so it ok with u 2 come 2mora?xgxin there pete.im sorry i didnt make it up there yesterday.i was meant to work as well but had to blow that out.iwas nuttin the wall all nite.il text u laterpatxpete,how u doing?im sitting in rooz working and sweating at the same time.havnt had anything for 2 days.feel really shit but i have to stop.i hope youre hangingGood here just concerned u r doing amazingly will visit if allowed know this is hard but u can do it take care L xHey Peter how're u doing today? Wishing u well L xDid ya get some mixes from metropolis? You ok today? Jimmy ?Just finishing 18 hr night shift, an hr drive home,in my thoughts constantly 'en ' light 'n'ed' Equine ? Only love my son.x
[edit] May 25 2004, 3:39 PM
Re: text us pete
munchie magregorOn my wayUR WANTED BY THE SUN I THINK U SHOULD GO 2 PARIS 4 BOUT A WEEK LET IT ALL DIE DOWNThere about half one xI will be at least 1 hrThere about half one xGoodU must av well had the munchiesWhat you got for me?Lkn frwd t c ng u bubbles wsh wll wth prgm etc!I cme there ten mins. . stoke newington.at homeim sitting on my words in siddons lane xAlive. How cursed pain and unexplained joy insists on reminding you. Protagonists of life, that we are. That and i've been listening to the smiths subliminaly. How do you feel? XNow i know how joan of arc felt... Xim working at rooz from 5.if u get time pop in or i can meet u before.patare you trying to kill meIn a rush but ok now what're u up 2? sun's still shining just L G xRevelries when/if i see you. Drunken they may bepete.give me a call!patxHey lad how're u doing today? L xSat outside with drinkie and sunshinei have multi coloured cigarettes for youhey come over u big lug + listen 2 dis tape.lukes back from grenada.i will sort out your pport.A.T.Wells offers villa.raki healing .recording studio. fishin.roHey u lil lunatic whats that mean?!? hahaha! i wil ring the promoter 2moz... u wouldnt know HOW much ive mist u! i cant wait 2give u a massive kiss n a hug!xgxHehehe ok!!! xgxI know the promoter an djs at 'frog',a club on a saturday nyt at the mean fiddler. they want babyshambles 2 play,so if we wana gig there,let me know! xgemxIf u want anything i will bring it to u. RonnieP,going out for a bit David Banks upstairs..Door open on latch.With jim...what u up to?With jim...what u up to?u have no love or respect 4 my son or i. i went thru hell just 2 have our son when u were filling urself. i care not if we ever see u again. u do not deserve aDoor open, run outa tin foil.Above Strada, pizza place, opp ALS bar.BisouxWhere do u want this chin-wag, geez?Deala here in twenty, will u 2?Whats workin?You!Exmth mkt. Wheres cheyvDream on dreamer Hi peter how ya feeling will s not about at the mo no he has nt gone on one he s just had to leave the area for a bit he s in a bit of trouble ! Locksmith or AA on way do u have money if needed? AA ref U bet. Had most enlightening session with Carl, wöndered when u would throw in your two penn'orth. When and where old bean?im in an art exam. guitars and cigarettes are all i can see. im tempted to stab my teacher with an art knife. Amazing but he was scared + thought he was awful (battery low is there a no I can call u on re lock? xBring it over todaycan & rini take astile out then? giz a bell. mamma.No r u@ chevs I' ll get the AA out 2 u G xAwake from yet another sleepless night and an 18 hr shift 2nite, i'll give u 1000 if u go back 2 the priory. It is ur only chance my son. We cant all b wrong ! Ur mind is in altered state,ur ONLY love is heroin u have no cash use your logic. I beg u. I will b in u k thursday after my breast scans.PLEASE GO BACKP, why cant u give up ur mingin flat and come live and work in London with me! U can surf my sofa! I need smone to share my rent.. Perfect! B on sunny bus journeys..just found a fantastic photo! Night night. Thunders xHuuungover i be. Escapee. Begging you shouldn't be. Far away by the end of the day. Spare an once of love? They give to you more than needed. I, i never Peter,Have you gone to Amys or your nans?If so I hope everythings ok.That sounded like a gd idea if you don't want stay in the hosp.Call me when u can love R unmentionable
[edit] May 26 2004, 3:00 PM
Re: text us pete
I love you chicken, but they all wanna change me. I owe you , I love you lets run offYou up for going to thailand peter?Thailand sorted. Jeff security will go with ya. Come on man let's make this happenI HAVE NO MONEY LEFT ON MY PHONE. CAN U PLEASE PHONE ME, PETER PERRETT SENIORPeter can u meet me 2mrow in dover ? Then i'll take you 2 london ?mum. . . . . part. please phone me to explain what's happening. Peter seniorjames has just told me you played that stupid C.D. to james endlicot. are you mad. do you know what a monitor mix is. it was done at 5 o'clock in the morning with the sole purpose of checking if the snare was bright enough. if we knew you were coming out of the 'health club' we would've done a special welcome home mix. the fact that the vocals were inaudible should've told you not to play it to play to anyone as they're quite an important . . . . .Where are you?Hi ya m8 sorry about last nite but i was totaly fucked had 2 go bed CHEV.x.We need a number. Ask mcgee if you aint got oneAlright butty, wanna do an hour or so for the book this avvy? PeteYou theremy mum asked of where i got that crazy persons tray from its under my bed idontlikelivingwhilemybestfriendsdyingifithinkofyouicantstopcryingshouldwechangethelocksphonemeyouscoundrelcollectyourrewardforfindingthemostwantedmaninAlbion#1, "Mixed Signals" you keep sending mixed signals. i keep sending no mixed signals. you make me feel stupid for putting my trust in you. do i make you feel stupid compared to me. i don't like living in these times. when the smallest brain has got the loudest voice. i don't like living in these times. when stupidity's a lifestyle choice. E.T. phone. . .etc. . .Peter comin 2 england 2mrow,where can i c u ? off 2 hospital soon que sera,sera. I know u have gigs but plse fit me in,have baccy,cigars,cheese,salami,caviar n lots of love. Ur old ma.xOutside now CHEV.x.Peterpeter, much best day in too long THANK YOU! respect my stuff when Iam away and have a fab' week, reckon u will anyway, try not to scare Hamish. . Kissy x Bim out
outsideR.u.at.Cheuvs.Peteiis.near.by.Peter will is in serious trouble he needs help Politics + gigs impressed by your diligence or should that b capacity!? G xWell,my frolicling friend,what are the chances of that?xNott hill but can travI'm free of the shackles. Are you?Hello spaceboy wot ya up 2 wanna tell me where u r? 5 min.xxxcool bd there 11.30 -12.00yeah whats the adress?at roozI ve had a bloke at my door with a gun in his pocket asking for will , will cant come into fulham and not one of his family will help he s staying in his car , sorry i didnt know what to do On my wayWatcha up to? Studio?At home. Dinner?Hi bilo, gimme a bell - i have a nice suggestion 4 ya baby - stay free xx Peter.Where are you.I need to see youHe,he,he.Put a smile on my face at work anyway.Yes? This is peter junior here. I'm just using dad's phone coz i haven't got any credit on my phone. How r u?Hi bilo, gimme a bell - i have a nice suggestion 4 ya baby - stay free xxI was only trying to be friendly.What am I supposed to do?It's not fair,Peter.Sort out standing order before 1st of mönth. It'll b fine. ByeP, Iam here tonight but away 2mrw til monday, clean sheets but dont frighten Hamish the guy in your room! so I need deposit cash to me and rent 2, unless trade
cant stand me
Last post
don’t be shy
Man who would be king
music when
Narcissist
Hahawall
Arbeit
Campaignof hate.
[edit] 3:49 PM
sorry to be impersonal but .... [68]
Just keep it up Pete, soon be done, you won't regret it. Jo x Just keep it up Pete, soon be done, you won't regret it. Jo x dearest peter, i know its probably been harder for you than we can ever dream in a million dreams, but i know your strong spirit will show through. you've turned over a new page in the proverbial book of life, don't turn it back. much support from the north! jaclyn xxxxxxx cliche i know but you do mean so much to me - libs with you are the most endearing, exciting and beautiful band but without (as in yesteryear's travesty) are merely exciting - no offence to carlos as he's a wonderful chap (bought me two pints in the country) but it is for the good and glory of the world that you get better. Hope to see you at Finsbury, love Fionn ps go to theusual.tk if you need somehow to while the hours Hello again. Dal here again.
If you are well enough. Come to the arts cafe E1 on 29th May. We play, they play, we all play there.
PS I got a great song that you have to sing with us, if you want to that is.
xx Pecker up old boy
Hello this is the boy from JUNKBOX. Dal. What does one say to another one. Get well sounds shit, but, get well. I was fucked up once in a while, pretty bad really, I had to make the big choice. I could have fucked it all up, said goodbye and who knows what. But I had to find the balance, you know the balance, well, it never spreads it self very fair and even. Anyway, you are the one that can sort out this shit. You have plenty to give and plenty people are all too willing to try and take some of it, be careful.
Lets meet soon, yes?
DAL x
dearest peter, i have no clever verse to express how much i believe in you, or how you are always in my thoughts. i hope you understand that i'll always be here for you. i am proud to call you my friend. get well soon jai
Hi Peter, heard you are in rehab, you have my thoughts and prayers, its not easy but the rewards are too great not to try and sometimes try again, keep your faith and all will be fine, steady as she goes, Good luck and God bless you, Gerry O' Boyle
Hello Peter, just wanted to send my love and wish you all the best, be happy, and happier. Take care, see you round
Lewis xxx
I am sorry if its rude of me to write.
I just wanted to say, keep strong and you will come out the otherside. You are a great example for me and for many others. I don't claim to know what you are feeling right now, but it wasn't long ago that i was on the edge, and i came through it. I just hope the same for you.
We all wish you peace and love and all the best.
Jon
100 years and nothing has changed 100 years and the killing continues, 100 years the flags still wave the anthems spit the borders divide 100 years and man is against man - 2 men 1 place under the same sky - 1 must get home 1 must remain - wilfred owen to donald rumsfeld - will we ever learn?
i do hope something positive shall ooze from the past week or so. >like the handful of main players we get in every generation, you've >so much to give, so many hearts and souls to affect, so many smiles >yet to paint. each and every member of the family of liberty is >thinking of you. > >dominic and i are looking to sort out some dates towards the end of >the summer. perhaps a date in birmingham, cheltenham and somewhere >else maybe. through tickets sales we shall be able to fund your >appearance fee, which i believe to be £1000. > >fancy testing the water, when all is dandy and fine. > >dominic wants me to sort a summer date in birmingham and asked me to >get in touch with you. let me know your thoughts, you up for a >show? solo or shambles up....whatever. > >a response would warm my heart > >peace and love > >gram parsons xxx Keep it real mate, hope your recoverey is a short one and that they are tretin you well in there
Craig
Always the last to know....just found out where you are.
Why did you carry on down that path when you had managed to stay clean for a couple of months? Is that why i never heard from you, who wanted to be friends, cause you were always out of it? You didnt even really try to stay clean!! And whats all this about your laptop being the only friend who stood by you? Im sure that isnt true, you had me but you threw me away remember!!!!!!!!!!
Went to street celebtrations in Shepherds Bush and Hammersmith on Wed for QPR being promoted to the 1st div, they played all the QPR anthems, plus a song by the Libertines......thought youd like to know!
Take care..............Emma xxx
To 'cure the soul by means of the senses'. It didn't work for Dorian. Gobble the jelly beans like Gretal and the witch wont get you. I hope you come through it. Good luck.
A fan called Lauren x
Dear Peter,
I have no idea whether you will even receive this email, let alone get chance to read it.
I just thought I would write you a note to try and give you an idea of how much your music means to me.
I'm sure you hear these ramblings all the time from fans and the like, and that this note is one of many similar ones, but I've been wanting to try and contact you for a while now, and I figured why not give it a go. It can cause no harm surely?
Your music, through both The Libertines and Babyshambles, has changed the way I think about things. It makes me feel things like no other music can. I hear "The Good Old Days" and it really means something to me, you know what I mean?
I've only ever seen you play live once, and that was on the 18th of December this year, at The Forum. I can safely say that it was the best gig I have ever been to and one of the best nights of my life. I would have loved to have been one of the many who joined you on the stage, but we were standing quite near the back at the time (my friend had fainted so we had to go to the bar to get her a drink...) and we didn't make it there in time. Even though we didn't make it up there, like I've said, it was still an amazing night and thank you, as well as Carl, John, and Gary, for making it so.
Anyway, I guess I am just chattering on; this was only meant to be a quick passing note!
I realise you don't know who I am but I thought I would let you know that my thoughts are with you.
Stay strong and get well soon
Sarah xxx
esteemed mr. pete doherty,
greeting from the far west coast in america. i felt compelled to write to you and at least express my feelings of admiration and utter gratitude towards yourself, carl and your libertine brethren. having the rock n roll spirit pump through these veins and this body for all of my 26 years, lately something has become stagnant with my spirit. has my 'rock' spirit been broken, or at least a little cracked? possibly a little bit. your band (and you specifically) has reenergized me and my heart beats to the tunes and spirit of albion. the way you play music, write songs (poetry really) and generally live to the fullest is inspiring mr. doherty. i simply wanted to thank you for rekindling the fires burning inside of me and reminding me why i love music, writing, creativity, and LIVING life so damn much. i wish your recovery quite soon and know that you always have a friend and a fellow libertine in seattle. thank you for making the music that you do and being the person you are. xo
christopher jones
I bought you a card that I was going to send, but it seemed cliched and pretensious. It was all stamped and ready to send, with my message scrawled under the greeting "by the time you get this card I hope you're already feeling better!" (who knew Hallmark even has cards for love notes sent across the seas...very appropriate - no?) Anyway, I dont think it's going to be sent. But I thought I'd write you an email saying the same things and it'd get to you loads quicker. I'm so proud and you've made me respect and love you even more with what you're trying to do. Good luck, Bilo and feel better quickly. Reading all your posts on babyshambles has been inspiring and uplifting, and do you know how great it feels to finally be hearing good news? Well, it's beyond great. You're a brave, strong boy and everyone's supporting you. Hope to see you back on your feet soon.
All my love, Lex
You have to do whatever takes you closer.
I was a lost cause once. So I thought. Many years spent back and forth to hospital and taking pills for this and pills for that and being told that it just wasn't normal. Now, everything's going fine and I am a fully contrubuting member of society (job, taxes, etc) and guess what? It's shit. They want you to do this life-thing in the way dictated to by the norm, but it chains you and each day it deadens you, until you wake up one morning and you realise that every day for the past six years has been exactly the same. It's like that salmon advert where the salmon dies after spending its whole life swimming upstream. That's a fairly obvious analogy, I know, but it is true. And it has led me to conclude that there is freedom in madness. Or at some level anyway (I saw some nasty things in hospital - mainly the pictures of princess Di pinned up on every wall staring down at the shivering wrecks who worshipped her), but for me, personally, there was freedom in madness.
Anyway, I was compelled to write because I've been thinking a lot about this stuff and how you mustn't lose your faith in love or music. I remember sitting on the harbour walls watching the moon bleed into the sky on a pitch black night and forcing myself to observe everything about it - the sound of the sea lapping against the boats and the ice in the wind pressing against my spine. It was the last night that I felt anything at all. If you gave me the choice between a dead life or a free one, I know which one I would pick. It's a shame that our society rejects this.
There's not a lot in life we are allowed to control anymore. Your body is one. Your choices are another. If you want to fight for anything - you should fight for freedom.
>To: peterlibertine@hotmail.com >Subject: Jock Scot, Poppy and Tara, sending their regards xxxx >Date: Fri, 21 May 2004 17:19:54 +0000 > >HI Peter, >Jock Scot's daughter here, Poppy. Dad sends his regards, and his two >wee lassies wish you well. > >Under the heavens, under the stars, >Over the limit, driving a car. >Under the influence, under the bed, >How did it get there shaking its head >Under the covers, under the weather, >There lies the underdog with his collar of leather. > >Under sedation, face pale and tired, >Under observation, monitered and wired. >Now under lock and key, blinded by visions. >Serving his sentence with no remission. >Over the rainbow, under the ground >Your pot of gold waits for you without a sound. > >Under the Baton, under the cosh, >Under the water with a deep sense of loss. >Under the moon where space isn't wasted, >The champagne and caviar he never tasted. >Still under fifty consumed with rage, >What the hell's eating him? >Looking his age. > >Watching and waiting without a sound. >No-one can hear him, no-one can see >What does he look like? >He looks just like.....you. > >wonder if we still watch you from you mantle piece? lots of love and >support from everyone xxx > well, good evening or whatever the time may be if you are ever actually reading this. sorry about the subject, that was a bit silly really but i never know what to write in the box.... i know that i don't know you and you don't know me but somewhere in this head of mine it makes sense so i'll carry on anyway and hope you get it too. i just thought i'd say, for what it's worth, that i'm wishing you well because i expect you need a lot of wishing wellness around now. it can't be nice to have people decanting blood out of you for any reason.... my friend said i shouldn't do this because i'd make a pig's ear of it and i daresay she's right but i felt compelled to do it. i hope you're well soon because even i know that feeling terrible is fucking awful.... don't ask me why but i thought you might like this seeing as you're reading regeneration- maybe i just like emailing poetry to strangers:
Anthem for doomed youth by wilfred owen
What passing bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells, Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,- The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires. What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes. The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
How to die by seigfried sassoon
Dark clouds are smouldering into red While the craters morning burns. The dying soldier shifts his head To watch the glory that returns; He lifts his fingers toward the skies Where holy brightness breaks in flame; Radience reflected in his eyes, And on his lips a whispered name.
You'd think, to hear some people talk, That lads go West with sobs and curses, And sullen faces white as chalk, Hankering for wreaths and tombsand hearses. But they've been taught the way to do it Like Christian soldiers; not with haste And shuddering groans; but passing through it With due regard for decent taste.
regeneration is so sad and beautiful. it made me cry while i wasn't writing an essay on pride and prejudice. one little question- have you read goodbye to all that by robert graves? if you haven't, you should, that's amazing too. so there it is, as i said, wishing you well, sending you love meera xx
listen to the swell maps..we gamble on the plastic horses..my sister shared your experience, twists and turns same place..over the edge..needles and pins needless today..soundtracks of wanda jackson, cupid car club and skull control..fade out.. shot reverse shot sing it like anna karina in 'une femme est une femme' someone collected moths in small frames.. i imagine a toy shop at the end of the world i send you wishes i send you charms and alarms i know you appreciate spells i'll whisper one for you x Pete if this is really is you please say so, i need your help, i need to send you something. i appreciate it if you're too busy right now but whenever you get a few spare minutes, i'll be as grateful as the libertine existence on this planet. at the moment my life is as fragile as delicately spun glass and i feel it breaking when touched. but as senile as this sounds, when i'm immersed in your presence, thoughts or words life takes a different toll but the frailty remains. in short pete, i feel like im breaking from the inside, cracking from the smallest inconsistancies. i don't want a saviour i just want to borrow some of your time. if thats ok. if this is you. please.
shiri x In darkness you are the path we follow to take us home In light you are the shade we seek In silence the glittering melodies slide from between your lips and fingers and soul In winter we warm to you In summer you incarcerate and hospitalize The weak and wounded we flock around our broken libertine Our words come from our love and our love, does it chase him away? Cover our bodies with scars for you, the words of our hero forever visible We want to be branded with the ideals of an arcady Show the world our love for the libertine way come back strong and well young captain of our ship, we wait for you
awkward words but sent with all the love my heart can muster Ladyshambles
as i sit here pondering, wondering my mind is drawn to you fair of face with dewy grace so lyrical, satyrical flailing, falling captured, ruptured aching, waking down, down over, under round, round tasteless beauty will once more become real stay strong, you, the most beautiful creature
all my love
petey boy?
I was thinking of you today. I was lying on my bed and thinking about doing a photo project of smoke alarms, there are 8 in our house, since my room went on fire when I was 11, I started it but no one knows that. I was looking at the smoke alarm in my room while lying on my bed and my eyes went to the green sign on my door that says “You’re in a safe environment”. I stole it from a classroom of Dublin City University and kept it in my sketchbook on a day I needed a hug.
If you consider that for every single communication someone sends you, telling you how you have inspired them and how they love you, at least 10/15 more don’t want to bother you with the same sentiment, you’ve bared your soul to us, thank you.
We will be there, friends and I, in the pit at Oxegen in July, cant wait to see you.
Good luck, and safe home. Niall.
Know you dont know me and u probs have better emails to be reading but im a massive fan of yours.i live in middlesbrough and failed to get to your gig at the arena ,as im 2 young (16),anyway hope u do a gig down here sometime.Any chance i could have a signed photo of you? Hope to Hear From You Soon Jonny C Dearest Peter Tonight I meditated and asked the angel Raphael to send you his golden ball of healing energy. I have not performed this ritual before but I feel that the love and light are with you my friend. I have a bottle of healing energies I would like to send to you its from the Aura Soma range please check out the website for further details. If you would like this bottle please can you let me know where I could possibly send it so that you would receive it? And to think that a blind woman created such beautiful colours! Well I will send you warmest wishes this cool evening. Love and light Cxx dear dear dear peter, a song for you (bright eyes): if you walk away, i'll walk away first tell me which road you will take i don't want to risk our paths crossing someday so you walk that way, i'll walk this way the future hangs over our heads and it moves with each current event until it falls all around like a cold steady rain just stay in when it's looking this way and the moon's laying low in the sky forcing everything metal to shine and the sidewalk holds diamonds like a jewelry store case they argue: "walk this way" "no, walk this way" laura's asleep in my bed as i'm leaving she wakes up and says, "i dreamed you were carried away on the crest of a wave, baby don't go away (come here)" there's kids playing guns in the street and one's pointing his tree branch at me so i put my hands up, i say "enough is enough, if you walk away, i'll walk away" (and he shot me dead) i found a liquid cure for my landlocked blues it will pass away, like a slow parade it's leaving, but i don't know how soon this world's got me dizzy again you'd think after 22 years i'd be used to the spin but it only feels worse when i stay in one place so i'm always pacing around or walking away and i'm drinking the ink from my pen and i'm balancing history books up on my head but it all boils down to one quotable phrase: if you love something, give it away a good woman will pick you apart a box full of suggestions for a possible heart and you may be offended, you may be afraid but don't walk away, don't walk away we made love on the living room floor with the noise in the background from a televised war and in that deafening pleasure, i thought i heard someone say, "if we walk away, they'll walk away" but greed is a bottomless pit our freedom's a joke, we're just taking a piss and the whole world must watch the sad comic display if you're still free, start running away ('cause we're coming for ya) i've grown tired of holding this pose i feel more like a stranger each time i come home so i'm making a deal with the devils of fame saying, "let me walk away (please)" you'll be free child once you have died from the shackles of language, immeasurable time then we can trade places, play musical grace tell them, "walk away, walk away, walk away..." so i'm up at dawn, putting on my shoes i just want to make a clean mistake i'm leaving but i don't know where to i know i'm leaving but i don't know where to peter dear, you wrote once that the task at hand was to strip away our false selves, constructed by external influences, people, systems, and i completely dug it. that is the daily struggle. i hope you still believe that. how are doing with it? i wish you strength and safety. your music has always been a promise of better, insane, chaotic realities and playing the game on your own terms. throw off this oppressive false self. i believe in you as ever, and you still play the truths that i want to believe in. all goodness and hope, helen Just another note to say how much we are missing you. You have no idea how much you mean to me and so many other people. Just think of when you're old and wrinkly, all shacked up in a big boat on the Thames, watching the grandchildren fight over who can play "don't look back into the sun" better on their grandad's old guitar...you can look back on these days and have a chuckle to yourself.
What do you prefer..breathing in or breathing out?
lots of love, Hi Peter,
Saw your messages and it brought back so many memories from my first days in the Priory. I’m 6 months out now (clean and sober), and although I have to admit it, I owe my survival to that ominous white castle which I love and hate in equal measures.
I guess the one thing that blew me away was not so much the solution, as I was too scared and destructive to believe my life was worth a fuck, but I came away with the smallest glimmer of hope that I could imagine life clean. That glimmer has grown, sometimes it’s the end of the match I’ve just lit, sometimes it is a 2000 watt searchlight. But it is never extinguished. And that fills me with so much joy that the tears are running down my face as I type this.
I’m not in a position to offer advice, I’m at the bottom of a steep learning curve on this one, but listen to the counsellors and your key worker. They are arrogant as fuck, but they have a lot to teach you. My body looked like a tapestry (I’m familiar with the 121 observation), and the scars fade slower than the thoughts of using.
I believe you can do this peter, if I can do it (and believe me, many thought i was a lost cause), you can too.
Stick with the programme, try not to get too sceptical (I know it is hard – fucking 10 o’clock club would send most sane people over the edge.) But there is a reason for it all. And on a lighter note, wait till Derek the drill instructor tries to teach a load of detoxing addicts Tai Bo. That, my friend, is fucking hilarious.
Best wishes, and take care yourself in there.
H
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envioussilver broke; When down herweedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, And mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, As one incapable of her own distress, Or like a creature native and indued Unto that element; but long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death Have stolen this time to write this to you, my thieving hands burning as I punch each letter into the keyboard realising, with every second that ticks by, what a cunt I am for leaving the taps running in the bathroom...
Stephanie x To Raise a glass to the most galant of men, whos emotions so raw its for all to see, now in the lonesome dark may i give my emotions back to thee from someone you not of
abigail
Hi pete Glad to see your ramblings on babyshambles.com are back and lively (is Thrively a word?) hope your feeling much better about yourself and your happy which is the most important thing anyway hope to see you in Rhtyhm factory again soon (my fav place to hear ya) i was thinking about speaking to mark hammerton down there and putting a message on .org for all bands that post on there to have a gig at R.F what you think Libertines/Babyshambles The unstrung The oThers/853 The lams Home wreckers paddingtons special needs The mardous well i would like to see it see ya soon maybe filthys on friday cc xx Hi pete Glad to see your ramblings on babyshambles.com are back and lively (is Thrively a word?) hope your feeling much better about yourself and your happy which is the most important thing anyway hope to see you in Rhtyhm factory again soon (my fav place to hear ya) i was thinking about speaking to mark hammerton down there and putting a message on .org for all bands that post on there to have a gig at R.F what you think Libertines/Babyshambles The unstrung The oThers/853 The lams Home wreckers paddingtons special needs The mardous well i would like to see it see ya soon maybe filthys on friday cc xx Hi pete Glad to see your ramblings on babyshambles.com are back and lively (is Thrively a word?) hope your feeling much better about yourself and your happy which is the most important thing anyway hope to see you in Rhtyhm factory again soon (my fav place to hear ya) i was thinking about speaking to mark hammerton down there and putting a message on .org for all bands that post on there to have a gig at R.F what you think Libertines/Babyshambles The unstrung The oThers/853 The lams Home wreckers paddingtons special needs The mardous well i would like to see it see ya soon maybe filthys on friday cc xx Hi pete Glad to see your ramblings on babyshambles.com are back and lively (is Thrively a word?) hope your feeling much better about yourself and your happy which is the most important thing anyway hope to see you in Rhtyhm factory again soon (my fav place to hear ya) i was thinking about speaking to mark hammerton down there and putting a message on .org for all bands that post on there to have a gig at R.F what you think Libertines/Babyshambles The unstrung The oThers/853 The lams Home wreckers paddingtons special needs The mardous well i would like to see it see ya soon maybe filthys on friday cc xx ive heard your doing time in the sleepy house. i know that you're surrounded by souless bloodsuckers. their time is up. if you lets us in we'll break you out and help to make things better. we mean this in the purest sense.
no cult. no fan. just two other human beings who give a shit.
c'mon man, let us in.
[edit] 4:00 PM
peter, loop the loop whoop de doop BANG um... smile 'cause your beautiful when you do. i'm glad your sticking to the old no pipeys and no foils 'cause um...it scared me. good luck, you're far too talented and creative to just let it all slip with that horrible stuff. be strong pete, cos everyone who has ever heard you sing is thinking about you right now. my mum sends her love, 'oh he sounded lovely on the phone, poor boy. send him my love as well rebecca. poor lad...' see you on the other side bek x I wanna be better than oxygen So you can breath when you're drowning and weak in the knees I wanna speak louder than Ritalin for all the children who think they've got a disease I wanna be cooler than TV for all the kids that are wondering what they're going to be We can be stronger than bombs if you're singing along and you know that you really believe We can be richer than industry as long as we know there's things we don't really need We can speak louder than ignorance coz we speak in silence every time our eyes meet
On and on and on it goes The world it just keeps spinning Until I'm dizzy Time to breathe So close my eyes and start again anew
I wanna see through all the lies of society, to the reality, happiness is at stake I wanna hold up my head with dignity, proud of a life where to give means more than to take I wanna live beyond the modern mentality where paper is all that you're really taught to create Do you remember the forgotten America? Justice, equality, freedom to every race Just need to get past all the lies and hypocrisy, make up and hair, to the truth beyond every face Then look around to all the people you see How many of them are happy and free? I know it sounds like a dream but it's the only thing that can get me to sleep at night I know it's hard to believe but it's easy to see something here isn't right I know the future looks dark but it's there that the kids of today must carry the light
On and on and on it goes The world it just keeps spinning Until I'm dizzy Time to breathe So close my eyes and start again anew
If I'm afraid to catch a dream I weave you baskets and I float them down the river stream Each one I weave with words I speak To carry love to your relief
I wanna be better than oxygen So you can breath when you're drowning and weak in the knees I wanna speak louder than Ritalin for all the children who think they've got a disease I wanna be cooler than TV for all the kids that are wondering what they're going to be We can be stronger than bombs if you're singing along and you know that you really believe We can be richer than industry as long as we know there's things we don't really need We can speak louder than ignorance coz we speak in silence every time our eyes meet
On and on and on it goes The world it just keeps spinning Until I'm dizzy Time to breathe So close my eyes and start again anew
Oxygen, Willy Mason
Beautiful n'est pas?
Keep strong Peter,
you have so many people thinking of you x
hello Peter, I just wanted to send you a message of hope. good luck with sticking with it - there's so much more for you to do - so many songs to emerge and so much verse to be wheedled out. it must be inconceivable to have unknown people caring about you - a confusing concept probably, but a good thing nonetheless. in the end though, it's nothing to do with us - it's all just to do with you. the libertines have given me so much, happiness for a start. I wouldn't want it to end now. I'm doing an MA in creative writing - an odd thing to do perhaps, but i'm half way through now so i can't stop - and i work in an indie club as well. I've had some very happy times seeing you and yes, things weren't always this good. i think i am perhaps less concerned about living in a conscientious way now. I hope you will continue to inspire people... Lizzyxx "I thought that life was going to be a brilliant comedy and you were to be one of many graceful figures in it." wilde
I don't believe in first or best or worst. I'm into liberty and verse.
Pete,
Hope it's going well- you're a legend already and we don't want to lose you!!
Tim
Hey Pete, I am a new user of babyshambles.com basically because you are the only music star I have ever really cared about, and i say that with no type of disregard to the word 'care.' I cant imagine what kind of hell you are going through and nor do I really want to imagine. But nows not the time for me to send you a depressing mail which you probably dont care for. I thought I would tell you how Time For Heroes soundtracked a big water fight we had last night, after consumpting vast amounts of Liqour, and how that song makes me so happy and carefree. Pete, stick in there, when u performed Sonnet in Leeds last week it bought a tear to my eye, its one of my favourite tunefuls ever. Love is a strong word but I send you it in the most meaningful sense. Cant wait to see you back with a bang. Paul (MisterPab) hope this reaches you because there is so much i want to say to you but i don't know where to start. If you ever feel lonely just think about us because we are always going to be there for you. When it feels like the whole world i against you, it's not because there will be a small portion of that world where we live and every day is a little brighter because we know you're there. Don't ever stop making your beautiful music and i am so proud of you for battling through this as i can't even begin to imagine how hard it is. You are truely an individual and an inspiration. Don't laugh at this because i let my fingers do the talking when i don't know what to say... love and luck always Hannah WhitmoreXXX peter, loop the loop whoop de doop BANG um... smile 'cause your beautiful when you do. i'm glad your sticking to the old no pipeys and no foils 'cause um...it scared me. good luck, you're far too talented and creative to just let it all slip with that horrible stuff. be strong pete, cos everyone who has ever heard you sing is thinking about you right now. my mum sends her love, 'oh he sounded lovely on the phone, poor boy. send him my love as well rebecca. poor lad...' see you on the other side bek x
Hey Pete,
I don't know how much of a chance you get to read your emails, but I just wanted to say get well soon man. You can do it. Just think it'll all be over in a few weeks and you'll be back gigging again, surrounded by your friends. I've never seen you/Libertines live as I can't recall many gigs you've done near me (Cardiff Barfly maybe?), but when you get back to normality I'm going to travel wherever you may play (London by any chance?!), and finally get to see the genius that is, Pete Doherty!
Stick with it
Alex
[edit] 4:14 PM
Hey Peter,
If they ask you if you want Jelly again, tell them strawberry, its easily the nicest! Sorry to hear about the vampires with needles jabbing you, they like to suck young blood! At least your getting there my friend, the real peter doherty (as you put it) is on his way, but if you dont like him at first, dont fret! just take down your mirrors and you wont have to see him till your comfortable! Take care peter and email me back if fingers will allow it!
Kraig Fallows if you get this message good, you dont know me but i just want to say your doing good matey in the true english way, whatever that may be what do you think about dot cotton ? if this is not you, then you are deluded for impersonationg another person, weird person mailing someone i dont know sorry for the harrassment anyway mail back mail is fun, we need fun If you want to email please don't do it to my work address send to - gemkenyon@hotmail.com. Just using this so it looks like I am doing some work. In rags with the tags cut out, dressed down for the kill, only to bow out at the end, making tea and biscuits for everyone with the sounds of Rusholme Ruffians filtering through the windows. Half baked ideas of escaping through the post shoot. sigh roll on 4pm. gembeline xxxxxxxxx
Hello darling,
In this cloudy day I hope you are feeling a little bit better, I am glad you like Babushka, I brought her from Lithuania, was in Poland and in Lithuania for few days to visit my grandmother who lives there.
I wanted to visit you today, bring you more flowers, but I think they are restricting the visit orders. I haven't been working for the last six weeks as I left my job and found another one. I am starting on Monday and I am a bit nervous as I think I got a bit lazy staying at home.
The reason I am writing this is to tell you how proud I am with what you are doing. I am thinking of you all the time and wishing you all the strength in the world to get better. I know you will as you are a fighter and you have all my support and love in this difficult time like that. I came to see you when you were asleep. Stroked you head and held your hand. I wish I could hold you now and give you massive hugs and kisses. I have painted some pictures for you which I wanted to bring you, but I am not sure when I see you now. The nurse told me that she will let you know that I rung.
I can't imagine how poorly you must be coming off drugs, but please Peter, don't give up, keep going, even in those darkest hours when you might think that you have had enough, think that you are getting better and do not rush to come out of there. I am 100% behind you on that one and I love you. If you need anything let me know, I am only 10 min on the bus from my home to the Priory
Take care, be strong.
Honorata
xxxxxxxx
you are the best my best friend and me love you
Get well soon
D + N xxxx
Peter,
Many letters of support and adoration to you, I am sure. No change here. The world and myself wishes you happiness and peace of mind. One hopes to find you in good cheer, and dreaming of Arcadian pastures of liberty. The Libertines soundtrack my very existence with Wildean wit and romantic imagery. It just goes to show that Love's Labour is never Lost. Muchos appreciation and support Skipper. In the words of the immortal Morrissey, "We have been through hell and high tide"... But worry not, it's just a little sea sickness. Arcadia is yonder and the Albion is on its way...
Thanks for your time,
Tim
Gimme a mail mate if you get a moment... Adam peter piper, piper indeed
it's been a while since we wondered round lewisham some. and i don't think i ever really did say what you mean to me. i'm not like the others who talk and pander and love out loud - my heart remains firmly inside it's chest cavity, unless ripped, still beating, from its hiding place. you are my favourite and i suspect that pretty much whatever you do, you'll remain so. your slightly ajar mouth, your funny walk and the ever-so delicate moles on your back. can you visit again soon, i want to hear that story you told me one more time. i'll resist all the "you can do it pete" and "i'm so proud of you"s cause i never really was into all that. you know that we know that you know. and that's all that matters. you make me feel what noone else can and thus i love you
jenny
ps. thailand's nice this time of year. all rolling beaches, dawn parties and more potent thai whiskey than one of those skinny thai boxers could shake a stick at
Peter, I hope this message manages to get through the barrage of other get well soon messages. I saw you at the Cockpit last week, what a sickly sweet, majestically twisted affair that was, eh? I still haven't decided if I was entertained or horrified. One thing I do know is that I want to see you at the Carling festival this year, whether you like it or not! And this time, show me the real Peter. You know who I mean. Get well soon love. It'd be a sin to lose a true genius of this generation. I'll be thinking or you while I'm trawling through English Literature revision... XXxx Morning Pete Hope you are feeling ok. We have never met But i wanted to send you a mail to let you know that im thinking about you and hoping and praying that you get through your time at the priory You are one of my favourite musicians you are so talented and your music and lyrics have got me through some of my most difficult times been there through my good times I adore quotes- thought you might like to read some The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed. Carl Jung </quotes/Carl_Jung/> (1875 - 1961) In prosperity our friends know us; in adversity we know our friends. John Churton Collins Never refuse any advance of friendship, for if nine out of ten bring you nothing, one alone may repay you. Madame de Tencin The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts. Bertrand Russell </quotes/Bertrand_Russell/> (1872 - 1970) Doubt whom you will, but never yourself. Christine Bovee Stick with it Pete, im goin into town tomorrow, and will be sending you a little gift. The world would not be the same without you and your beautiful music, it has the power to drive me to tears. Take care chick xxxxxxxx hi, peter. i have got back to Tokyo from London and i wanna say thanks for your brilliant gigs. I enjoyed staying in london so much. I went to Babyshambles, 4th and Filthy, 6th. Both were amazing! ( you may not remember, but you came to kiss me in Rhythm Factory. you are always sweet to your fans...) I won't forget about you and london. i hope that you feel better and give me a smile at fujirock. I guess rehab is really hard, but please be strong. you can do it! lots of love xxx
Chia
Pete, by the way if you want me to send some more poems can do or post them as I hate how they look on electronic mail. I have a little paris iron-on badge that was picked up somehow (?) in your flat and feel bad that I have it, because it was out of your pretty box. My collection hopefully to be published is called 'Glorious Salad Days' ,from my great-uncle, Harry Pollitt the British Communist leader.... I am standing under the elbows of giants and tis a scary thing!! Take care my love. Here are two poems one is about a member of my family but thought it might make sense. Email me if you bored because I am very bored at work. Oh and Indian Brandy can cure anything says my nanna. Better to have an empty house than a bad tenant. Gembelina xxxx
Repossession
She went back to that house he used to live in. She couldn't remember the time, the urge or blight, now it was crumbling away. She halted, awkwardly side stepping the concrete dereliction, pushing away the plastic cross. How the welcoming pockets of aroma filled her, when she opened the door.
Now it was dustsheets.
Did they ever lie on the floorboards, wondering if the cork ceiling would save
them
from war? His writings half etched under the radiator, seemed to mark the ways
he
could escape. The wind carried her charlatan away. She likes to think he is
still pirouetting from town to town. She would like to tell you the stories
about love, but that time is gone. Now the cold air seeps through the newspaper
winnows, piercing her cheeks, spreading the news of a world in arms across the
daisy wallpaper. When it happened she wasn't ready for it - the letter left
behind in a shoebox, the bronze crib board still with burnt matches. She tried
to learn the game, her heart just wasn't in it.
Slight Requiem
Inhaling the remnants in a tremble of light
head to stomach, knees to chest,
she curled a leg around him
predicting his offer of caress,
shingles of amber filtering in.
A generation sparse to the bone stripped of calcium diets, lost the urges to condemn to kick the cramps, cause riots, a yawn to lily livered henchmen.
The playful punch of time came way too soon for his liking, whipped his sorry face to the alley, a dull sigh of teeth cracking against hard concrete paves.
And whatever he wrote she burned to cinders, blotched paper floated to the sky, the stretch for comfort finally understood when debt was passed to the next in line creeping quietly through her back door.
The shoe box trinkets for all it means, an open welt of tin foil dreams.
Dear Peter,
I will probably appear to be yet another obsessive fan in this message but.. well that's probably true anyway. I can't begin to imagine how difficult and utterly weird things are for you right now, so I'm wishing you all the best, this is really going to be good for you and I look forward to seeing a happy fresh faced peter at Reading festival in August.
I also owe you a huge thank you for bringing me and my boyfriend together. If it wasn't for you we both wouldn't have bought the For Lovers single, wouldn't have met on the train through finding we had something hugely in common and we wouldn't be so happy and smitten with eachother right now! So, we both love you for that now aswell, and For Lovers is 'our song'. We'll both be as close to the stage as possible while you're playing Reading, skanking aimlessly like a couple of loonies as usual.
Sorry, I'm really wittering now. And I have to leave for my business studies exam in looks at watch 1 hour. So err, wish me luck! Really should revise the boring stuff now. Sorry again for the length of this. Love Jenny xxx
Enid Starkie writes in ‘Arthur Rimbaud’: “...dirt and depravity were considered the hallmark of genius and many a respectable ‘fils de famille’ ceased to wash and adopted dissolute habits in order to simulate the genius which he [Rimbaud] did notpossess. The other poets, with their eyes turned towards the past where the considered the source of real beauty sprang, could not accept his [Baudelaire’s] new conception of beauty, with its urban types, city men and women instead of gods and goddesses, narrow, slummy streets instead of fresh green glades, apartment houses instead of classic palaces. One and all they [the other poets] solidly rejected him [Rimbaud] on account of what they called the chaos of his theories and his errors in grammar and syntax...Verlaine alone still had confidence in his friend’s powers. ...Verlaine never asked for more than a mere momentary satisfaction of his senses and he did not question the why or the wherefore. Rimbaud, however, who had much of the puritan in his composition, considered debauch a necessary aesthetic and spiritual discipline, and for him it was no self-indulgence. It became, on the contrary, in his inverted asceticism, a form of self-maceration, a form of self-flagellation… his life of debauch was for him one long martyrdom, but a martyrdom giving him all the ecstatic joys of a religious martyrdom, and to reach this sublime condition he was willing to sacrificedignity,health and purity. ‘All the evil of the world passed through his being’ said Rivière, ‘but only as a purge.’ Debauch was for him a doctrine, a religious aim, and it was as stony a path to travel as that of virtue. Whatever may have been the nature of the relationship, it brought the at first great joy and a sense of fulfilment, as well as literary stimulation, but it was eventually to prove for both of them the source of deep suffering, bitterness and all the devouring jealousy that such a relationship seems fated to produce. Only two members of the same sex have the power to wound on another so deeply, when things go wrong between them, and to wound one another where hurt is most intolerable. At first Rimbaud had hoped great things for the relationship with Verlaine. There was to have been between them complete harmony and understanding, perfect unity. His love for Verlaine and Verlaine’s for him were to be the full explanation of everything. By slow degrees the rapture faded, disillusionment came to Rimbaud and finally disgust, leaving nothing but a taste of ashes in his mouth. His consciousness of the failure of his relationship with Verlaine, his consciousness of the vanity of that experience was part of his spiritual failure and his ultimatedebacle. Sometimes when he was in a wild and savage mood, he used to fight with Verlaine and do him bodily harm...sometimes he would regret his hardness andthere would then be a reconciliation as passionate as the quarrel. There seems to be in Rimbaud’s behaviour towards Verlaine all the uncertainty of temper, the intermittent sadism, that such a relationship seems fated to rouse, alternating changes from kindness to cruelty... ...in London…with the exiles from the Commune- politicians, journalists, writers and agitators- there was more true bohemianism in Soho than there was, at that time, in the literary world in Paris. In London Verlaine and Rimbaud made no attempt to disguise the nature of their friendship and it is saidthat openlyboasted of it... ...he [Rimbaud] began to compose ‘Illuminations’ such as 'Villes’, a new form of prose poem. In these he made concrete, with uncanny skill, the horror of the modern industrial capital, with its drearystreets, straggling on in sordid never-ending lines towards the horizon; the suburbs with each mean little house entrenched behind its mean little garden. Over all this hangs, like a dark pall, the London fog and smoke, through which flit sinister figures,theFuriesof the modern world. It is said that Verlaine and Rimbaud visited the Chinese dens in the east-end by the docks, and learned to smoke opium. This might explain the distortion of Rimbaud’s vision of reality which we find in the ‘Illuminations’ dealing with the town. His version of the material world replacing the spiritual world is symptomatic of a radical change in Rimbaud. Now he began to realise that all the things on which he had based his life and art were false. False had been his belief in the dynamic value of debauch; from debauch he had reaped nothing but bitterness, disgust and adeeper loneliness. Baudelaire has said: ‘Après une débauche on se sent toujours plus seul, plus abandonné’. This too had been Rimbaud’s experience: ‘La débauche est bête, le vice est bête’ he says in ‘Une Saison en Enfer, ‘Il faut jeter les pourritures à l’écart’. False too had been his theory of art, and false especially his conviction that he had become the equal of God…but now he discovered that, like ‘L’Homme-Dieu’ of Baudelaire, it was only the distorting fumes of opium which had madehim magnify his own image. ...to prove that he [Rimbaud] was still strong, and to ease the tension of his nerves- his health was still far from good- he was driven into acts of cruelty which he afterwards bitterly regretted...He describes himself as preparing his friend for their ultimate separation. ...he [Rimbaud] believed that no man could ever escape from the thrall of opium...his indeed had been a false conversion for he had succumbed again and it was verily a night of Hell, his experience in England. What he [Rimbaud] minded most of all, was the harm he was doing to others as well as to himself, to Verlaine whom, in all sincerity, he had hoped to bring back to his first state of ‘fils du soleil’...in the meantime the quarrelling and bickering between thetwo‘compagnons d’enfer’ continued. ...Verlaine wrote Rimbaud, saying, ‘I damn well couldn’t stand any longer the violent life we have been leading lately, full of scenes and quarrels, with no other cause than your warped temper…I love yougreatly.’ ...Rimbaud then informed him that he was leaving that afternoon for Paris. Verlaine, blind with fury, locked the door of their room and sat on a chair against it. ‘Now try to go,’ he cried, ‘and you’ll see what will happen!’ he whipped the revolver out of his pocket and fired three times at his friend. He was only three yards away from him and the first shot hit him in the wrist, while the second and third went wide and embedded themselves in the wall. Then Verlaine, suddenly realising what he had done, broke down...Suddenly he [Rimbaud] was brought face to face with himself and saw himself with new clarity. He was only eighteen and far from being self-assured andconfirmed in his ways.” sound oddly familiar?? you better get well soon...you're seriously distracting me from my revision rachael xx
[edit] 5:18 PM
would be nice to talk again sometime. a poem for peter... We can all find ourselves, in places that ‘don’t fit’ at certain times in our lives -sometimes several We use this time to reflect & catch up on our thoughts & movements of times passed that have made us who we are, Without this time we cant change or adapt our future In this time, we challenge space & grow from within to be the beautiful people of the world Our inner soul remains unchanged, we thankfully create an outer shell stay strong, sending lots of love x corinne knows x a.k.a the girl with the pierced gum
Rock on mate Ello princess!! tried to email you poems since Bristol to Whitechapel adventure. Think you lost your phone, and last time I phoned you I was drunk... I think. My metro has never been the same since you know!! Salford Girls Club adventures tonight...roll on roll... will have a drink for you and raise a glass for us blithe and sweet. Grimsalford Gembelina xxxxx
The Wrong Boy - Willy Russell Dear Morrissey, I'm still dying of embarrassment. I couldn't get out of that service station fast enough. These carpet fitters are headed for Halifax and they said they'd drop me there. I don't even know if Halifax is on the way but I would have accepted a lift to anywhere just to get out of that service station. I'm glad that at least it happened in such a transient sort of environment and so hopefully I'll never have to see her again! Having my Walkman on and writing to you, I hadn't realised he was talking to me, the Incredible Bulk. By the time I took my earphones off he was shouting, 'Hey! Look, look!' I looked to where he was pointing. And that's when I saw her, stood there by the mix-it-yourself muesli counter. She was smiling at me and she sort of half waved. And though normally I don't have a great facility for a smile, I just couldn't help myself smiling back at her; because although I hadn't ever seen her since that one time at the bus stop by the bottle bank on Failsworth Boulevard, I'd never forgotten her, the girl with the chestnut eyes. I didn't know her, and she didn't know me. We'd just been stood there, with all the other people in the bus queue. She was almost at the front of the queue and I was stood at the back. I was slightly shocked at first, when she'd just nodded at me. I must have looked puzzled though because she smiled again and opened her denim jacket so that I could see her tee shirt. And I understood then. And I smiled back at her. Because she was wearing exactly the same tee shirt as me! The same one that I'm wearing today, the one with the picture of Edith Sitwell on the front and Morrissey written on the back of it. And it's always brilliant, that is, when you meet another Morrissey fan. Even though you've never seen them before, you know there's something important that you share with that person. She called back to me, from where she was stood up at the front of the queue, she said, 'Where was it that Morrissey lost his bag?' I laughed. I said, 'That's easy, Newport Pagnell.' She laughed then and all the people in the queue were starting to look at us as if we were soft or the sort of decadent drug-crazed delinquents that they read about in the Failsworth Fanfare. But I didn't care. We didn't care. We were Morrissey fans! I said, 'What job did he apply for at the YWCA?' She laughed again and she said, 'That's easy and all: backscrubber.' We were having a great time, just stood there at the bus stop, me and the girl with the chestnut eyes. 'What was Morrissey carrying', she asked, 'when he broke into the Palace?' We both shouted out the answer together, shouted out, 'A sponge! And a rusty spanner!' And we both laughed then. And that's when I noticed her eyes, noticed that they were as dark and as shiny as chestnuts that have just come out of their skin. I think I must have been staring at her then because she sort of shrugged a bit. And then she asked me, she said, 'Have you got the New York mix of "This Charming Man", the one with the misprinted cover?' I nodded. And she looked at me like she was really really impressed. The bus turned up then though and someone behind her told her to get a move on and stop holding up the queue. She moved along towards the bus and got onto it. I hoped she didn't think I was being sort of superior or gloating about it when I'd told her I'd got the New York mix of 'This Charming Man' with the misprinted cover. I didn't want her thinking I was bragging about it. As I moved along the queue I decided that if I got to talk to her again when I was on the bus I wouldn't mention that I had the New York misprint cover of 'Hand In Glove' as well! She might very well think it was somewhat ostentatious or even slightly vulgar, a person having not just one but two of the most collectible Morrissey collectibles in existence. As it turned out though, I never did get to talk to her on the bus. I never even got to get onto the bus! Because when I got to it the driver said, 'No more. We're full up!' and I started to protest but he just hit the lever and the doors snapped shut in my face. And I never saw her again after that, the girl with the chestnut eyes. I never saw her anywhere. I always hoped that I'd bump into her again but I knew it was highly unlikely, especially as I never venture into the outside environment unless it's absolutely necessary. Most of the time I'm quite happy being miserable in my bedroom. And even if I did go out more, like my Mam was always urging me to do, I still don't think I would have bumped into her again, the girl with the chestnut eyes. I knew from her accent that she wasn't even from Failsworth. So that day when I'd met her at the bus stop, it was probably the only time she'd ever been in Failsworth in her entire life. That's why I knew I'd probably never see her again.
Dear Peter, After reading all the tabloid tittle tattle, I just wanted to wish you well. Your music is great, and so are you, all us fans are rooting for you. Get Well Soon Best Wishes, Zaira Cross xx P.S. If you find the time please post on your libertines.com forum.....we are still liveing in hope that you will post to us someday! Peter, Nor do you know me, or wish to. Just a little fan. wishing you all lucks at feeling better. Once was stuck in a place like that myself. Now clean and fine. Good luck and better luck. xxx Kate ===== ------------------------------------------------------------ ROLLERcoaster favourite ride ------------------------------------------------------------ Pete….
First of all, heart felt thanks and appreciation for all you and your band have done for me over the last 18 months of my life. In a music scene that I have grown to despise (tad harse but true) you and yours are a shining light, thank you.
I’m not gonna warble on too much, I’m sure you’re more than “overwhelmed” with endless e-mails regarding various matters, but reading your babyshambles posts whilst you’ve been in the company of the priory brought a tear to my eye. It made me remember.
I conquered the said addictions 2 years ago after 3 and a half years of pollution, and you describing has made me remember the feeling you get…. The freedom you have now, the ultimate liberty, no pain first thing, eyes wide open, endless energy will follow, breathing/tasting fresh air again…. The resurrection. I know you must have experienced similar feelings through-out opiate filled/unfilled days but this is your new love for a new life. And you know as well as I do Pete, this kicks the f*ck out of any shitty dirty foil or stinking devil pipes.
True Liberation has begun, and only now does the Albion sail on course.
I’m thinking of you Pete, obviously not everyone understands the power of the calling, but I’m still here, 2 years down the line, loving the liberty as much as I did then, the release. Enjoy it. You’ll never forget it.
I hope what words are here have helped in the tinyest of ways my friend (sorry to call you a friend without knowing, but anyman who overcomes the calling is a friend in my view)
Look forward to the sunshine, and that guiness, and I’ll see you on the other side.
Love to all.
Rich. X X X x
Well, the pleasure - the privilege is mine....
mornin' squire[!] and what a day for it. Good to see you getting back on your feet lad, I might join you in there if this headache doesnt fuckoff soon. I can lie my way in, bringing timeless day-killing classics such as Scrabble, Team Tactics and Guess Who?! (My turn #1... He wears shit shirts and never smiles, ??)
I've got some photo's for you, some right belters from that Newcastle gig - also a couple that you gave me that I think you should have back, i'm guessing its your sister with you in them - might be wrong. Do I send them to K&K, or can I send them to le Pri-orr-ee? When will the kids get clever and start wearing Captain Bilo (snooker) Loopy pirate earrings, P.D. circa 2001? Who knows eh~
My phone got nicked and I gave you my old one, so I was fucked for a month or so. Lost all my numbers, bet you've been there before! Actually I think you live there. I emailed the Magee, apparently he's in the states, plotting a voyage for you all maybe?
So yeah, phones are being mean... though I'm currently using set of yoghurt pots #0796, give us a bell one time and we can have that game of Guess Who, 250 miles apart.
Take care my lad... and don't be walking around that place with your hat on backwards - you never know when the next fit rich woman will be wandering the halls.
Gaz x
'wor the bracket man
peter,
instead of revising for my dreaded a levels I thought I'd send you this, which I know will be pointless and insignificant in the masses of emails you'll be receiving from all of us awestruck fans. But I can only hope it makes a difference, I know what an addiction feels like, all I can say is I know you're strong enough to beat it and you'll be out of that place in no time. .I wrote this, it's about addiction, indoctrination, obsession;
if it were not for you I would not be in this state
I would not be trapped in this box, wrapped up so tightly with cheap ribbon,
poked and prodded with anticipation by young faceless children, then ripped open with brutal excitement,
played with, touched, admired; then forgotten, discarded and finally disposed of,
if it were not for you I would not be in this state
come back to us soon bilo, vicki xxx
yeh, the bastards never gave it to you, they just emailed me and asked me to pick it up.. i don't know why. you are at the priory in roehampton right? thats where i dropped it off. oh well. hope to see you soon... do you think you'll be out by Tuesday for the gig at the hope and anchor? if you are i'll see you there! xxx flo Hello, I wanted to leave a message for you on the forum but was unable to log in so had to resort to different tactics. I know that what you are going through at the moment is impossible for me to understand and I realise that at the moment you will probably be inundated with emails like this one, however I felt compelled to write, whether you choose to humour me by reading is your call. I realise that we will probably never meet and that you will go on to far greater and better things and I will be left where I am but now it seems to me like you need some support. I am no fantasist and realise you have thousands of people around you that care about you but one more voice can't really do that much harm. Peter you mean so much to everyone and are such a major part of so many lives, and whether or not this is a burden you wish to carry it is one that you need to accept. The lyrics that you write and the songs you sing make a real difference to people and this difference is something no one would like to lose. Human nature is by its very essence selfish and it is with this in mind that I make this appeal to you. Whilst there are many people who could pass by life without any real cares, there are people all over the world who really do care about you. Even though most of these people may never meet you they will always care for your wellbeing, myself included. I have been and done some very stupid things and these do not make me proud. Please may I urge you not to take away one of the main reasons that I am able to get up in the morning. Please keep safe and keep well and I am truly sorry if this email does anything other than make you smile, Love and good wishes always, Louise xxx
TODAY'S HEADLINES The New York Times on the Web Friday, May 21, 2004 Compiled 2 AM ET ---------------------------------------- For news updated throughout the day, visit www.nytimes.com ---------------------------------------- - TOP STORIES - Chalabi's Seat of Honor Lost to Open Political Warfare With U.S. By DAVID E. SANGER The raid on Ahmad Chalabi's offices was a remarkable reversal for a man who worked furiously to plot Saddam Hussein's fall. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/politics/21EXIL.html?th .................. Afghan Policies on Questioning Prisoners Taken to Iraq By DOUGLAS JEHL and ERIC SCHMITT The interrogation center at Abu Ghraib prison was run by a military intelligence unit that had served in Afghanistan. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/politics/21ABUS.html?th .................. 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More Business News http://www.nytimes.com/pages/business/index.html?th ---------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------- - SPORTS - PISTONS WIN SERIES, 4-3 With Kidd Silenced, Nets Cry Uncle By CHRIS BROUSSARD Behind their typically stingy defense and Ben Wallace's atypical soft shooting, Detroit routed the Nets in Game 7, 90-69. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/sports/basketball/21nets.html?th .................. SERIES TIED, 3-3 With 2 Late Goals, the Flyers Force a Seventh Game By JASON DIAMOS Simon Gagné's second goal, with 1:42 remaining in the first overtime, forced a seventh game, as the Flyers rallied for a 5-4 victory over the Tampa Bay Lightning. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/sports/hockey/21flyers.html?th .................. A Longtime Stock-Car Hotbed Is Left Behind as Nascar Spreads Out By VIV BERNSTEIN Another North Carolina racetrack has been abandoned by Nascar in its push to build a national following. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/sports/othersports/21nascar.html?th .................. More Sports News http://www.nytimes.com/pages/sports/index.html?th ---------------------------------------- - ARTS - CRITIC'S NOTEBOOK Cannes, a k a Asia West By A. O. SCOTT The dominant personalities at the Cannes Film Festival may have been American, but Asia was the continent most heavily represented in competition. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/movies/21CANN.html?th .................. TV WEEKEND | 'SCOTT TUROW'S REVERSIBLE ERRORS' Looking for the Flaw That Can Save a Life By ALESSANDRA STANLEY This two-part CBS mini-series based on Mr. Turow's best-selling novel stars Tom Selleck, William H. Macy and Felicity Huffman. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/arts/television/21TVWK.html?th .................. CRITIC'S NOTEBOOK The War's Dark Side: Filling in the Blanks By CARYN JAMES Two striking documentaries about journalists in Iraq suggest how rarely the harshest images have penetrated American newscasts until now. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/arts/television/21NOTE.html?th .................. More Arts News http://www.nytimes.com/pages/arts/index.html?th ---------------------------------------- ======================================== Receive 50% Off Home Delivery of The New York Times Newspaper. Click here: http://www.nytimes.com/ads/headlinestext.html ======================================== - MOVIES - CRITIC'S NOTEBOOK Cannes, a k a Asia West By A. O. SCOTT The dominant personalities at the Cannes Film Festival may have been American, but Asia was the continent most heavily represented in competition. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/movies/21CANN.html?th .................. MOVIE REVIEW | 'SHREK 2' The New Son-in-Law's an Ogre, and Hollywood Is the Target By A. O. SCOTT The sequel to "Shrek" is slick and playful entertainment that remains carefully inoffensive beneath its veneer of bad manners. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/18/movies/18SHRE.html?th .................. MOVIE REVIEW | 'CONTROL ROOM' How Al Jazeera Is Squeezed by Its Politics and Its Craft By A. O. SCOTT Jehane Noujaim's bristling documentary is about Al Jazeera, the satellite news network, during the American invasion of Iraq. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/movies/21CONT.html?th .................. More Movies News http://www.nytimes.com/pages/movies/text/index.html?th ---------------------------------------- - EDITORIALS - TODAY'S EDITORIALS Friends Like This It is good to see Washington distancing itself from Ahmad Chalabi, who contributed to some of the most disastrous miscalculations in the war in Iraq. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/opinion/21FRI1.html?th .................. Reforming Mutual Funds The Securities and Exchange Commission should do more to ensure that independent directors are free from ties to the fund's management company. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/opinion/21FRI2.html?th .................. A Rare Consensus on Clean Air A policy that will reduce emissions from diesel-powered construction equipment is the most important clean air initiative to originate in the Bush administration. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/opinion/21FRI3.html?th .................. FIXING ALBANY What's Going On There? Lately, the corrupt nature of Albany's political culture has surfaced in vivid ways, giving voters an idea of how morally and intellectually bankrupt the Capitol scene is. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/opinion/21FRI4.html?th .................. Go to Editorials/Op-Ed http://www.nytimes.com/pages/opinion/index.html?th ---------------------------------------- - OP-ED - OP-ED COLUMNIST 'Gooks' to 'Hajis' By BOB HERBERT In refusing to return to war, Staff Sgt. Camilo Mejia has raised an issue that deserves a close reading by a nation emerging from a fog of misrepresentations. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/opinion/21HERB.html?th .................. OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR Rock of Ages By NICK HORNBY Rock 'n' roll remains necessary because we need exhilaration and a sense of invincibility, even if it's only now and again. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/opinion/21HORN.html?th .................. OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR Why We Built the Ivory Tower By STANLEY FISH After nearly five decades in academia, I exit with a piece of wisdom for those who work in higher education. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/21/opinion/21FISH.html?th .................. Go to Editorials/Op-Ed http://www.nytimes.com/pages/opinion/index.html?th ---------------------------------------- - ON THIS DAY - On May 21, 1927, Charles A. Lindbergh landed his "Spirit of St. Louis" near Paris, completing the first solo airplane flight across the Atlantic Ocean. http://www.nytimes.com/learning/general/onthisday/20040521.html Buy this front page. http://www.nytimes.com/nytstore/historicpages/frontpages/NSKEEP11.html ---------------------------------------- About This E-Mail You received these headlines because you are subscribed to Today's Headlines from NYTimes.com. Unsubscribe: http://www.nytimes.com/gst/unsub.html?email=peterlibertine@hotmail.com&id=39302655&group=th&product=all Manage My Subscriptions: http://www.nytimes.com/email/ Suggestions: http://www.nytimes.com/membercenter/formf.html How to Advertise: http://www.nytimes.com/adinfo/ Privacy Policy: http://www.nytimes.com/ref/membercenter/help/privacy.html Copyright 2004 The New York Times Company
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You probably dnt need this right now, but i know exactly whats its like... what its like to feel the crave that you cater for everyday...that little monster inside your head saying "go on you know you will feel better after"
Like Hamlet i had to choose between life and death, i chose both. Part of me died along with the crack/smack and wacky back, but most of me lived, occasionally i have the odd spliff but...well come on. The sad thing is i am only 16 and was a full blown addict at 13 because of my past, your how old? well i dnt know but older than me, if i can stop on my own i am sure you can. I now am studying for my A levels, and music is a big passion of mine, i play the piano and also i taught myself the guitar...i love them both like babies.
Much love and empathy to you.
Sorry if i bored you...just felt i had to say something, i am young and naive and will probably regret this so forget about it after you read it, i hope i touched your heart like you did mine.
RE: i cant wrap my arms around a memory, so hang in there!!!!!!
>From: "kayleigh joanne" <kayleigh_joanne@hotmail.com> >To: peterlibertine@hotmail.com >Subject: i cant wrap my arms around a memory, so hang in there!!!!!! >Date: Fri, 21 May 2004 07:29:36 +0000 > >dearest peter, > >this is kinda pointless, but u have given me so many oppertunities >and inspiration, and i just want to thank you for that, many >oppertuinities , including meeting a lot of friends, while quing for >6 hours to see u play:) thank god for toys are us , and there >sanctury from frezzing february weather!!!!!!!! >i just wanted to tell u that you rock!!!! and that everyone is >following babyshamles, and .org to see how your getting on!!! we are >all really proud of you mate!!! >if your getting bored in there you can always check out my LJ or >talk to me on msn you can get my id from the top of the page!! i >also have yahoo messenger my id for that is >luva_i_need_u@yahoo.co.uk >http://www.livejournal.com/users/luva_i_need_u/ this is the adress >for my LJ if you get bored:) >RE: i cant wrap my arms around a memory, so hang in there!!!!!! >im will write you a letter as soon as i find a address, > >stay strong and to quote your good self, give crack free life a >crack!!!!!! (its really not that bad you no!!!) > >loadsa luv + kisses > >luva_i_need_u >xxxxxxxxxxxxx > nmoody62@hotmail.com RE: Important >From: nmoody62@hotmail.com >To: peterlibertine@hotmail.com >Subject: Important >Date: Fri, 21 May 2004 08:00:58 +0100 > >Important! > ><< Part-2.zip >> welcome to fuji, this is our arcadia. Hello Peter,
Do you still use this account? I'm not an English speaker so... sorry I think I cannot turn my brain to... 'English brain' right now maybe, cos it's quite difficult to write some English now. I don't know why!? But more than that, I wanted to write to you so...
We all support you, Peter. Don't forget this. You're not alone.
I hope when you come to Fuji Rock in Japan, you're having a big and crazy knees-up! like you're always having in London. I always think like... if I could be in London...
I'll get ready to give you something when I can meet you at Fuji. Last year, I gave a card to Carl which says, 'Welcome to Fuji, this is our Arcadia.' I wish you could feel that atmophere last year but you've got this year! This year'll be much much better, man!
Take care, Peter. Always thinking of you.
Eri.
P.S. I'm a girl who sent 'Bruman' stuff (stories on photos) for your birthday and you put my stuff on a part of the books of Albion. I'm really appriciated. That was actually a dream that I had one night. It was like the lyrics of For Lovers now I think... 'this is for lovers running away...' I wanted to tell you something before you run away, you leave, in that dream.
Oh, one more thing. I started to learn French. When I saw For Lovers video, I felt something. It's weired. I felt something special from that video. I was so approached by that Paris so I suddenly think like, I want to learn French. I want to see Paris as soon as possible in my eyes... Hat das Zimmer Klimaanlage? Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world; or to be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thought Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible! The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury and imprisonment Can lay on nature is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Keep kicking ol' bean. Hope you (get to?) want 'it' as much as everyone else wants 'it' for you. Maybe one day I'll buy you a pint. Maybe we'll never meet again. Maybe Forest will get promoted next season, it's about time!
Best o' luck to you. Ben
Oh, and make sure you do some scuba diving - I hear Egypt's very good.
Hi pete, I'm writing this message to wish you the well, i came to see Babyshambles at stoke on the 28th due to my girlfriends sister got us tickets and she has been a mad libertines fan for ever. I had not heard much of your work at the time, but when i saw u play at that gig i thought it was amazing the whole place just lit up as soon as u walked on the stage. Ive since became obsessed with listening to all your recordings and absolutely love it. So this is just to wish you well and hoping to see you play again in the near future! Keep it real m8 Dave Andrews Hi pete, I'm writing this message to wish you the well, i came to see Babyshambles at stoke on the 28th due to my girlfriends sister got us tickets and she has been a mad libertines fan for ever. I had not heard much of your work at the time, but when i saw u play at that gig i thought it was amazing the whole place just lit up as soon as u walked on the stage. Ive since became obsessed with listening to all your recordings and absolutely love it. So this is just to wish you well and hoping to see you play again in the near future! Keep it real m8 Dave Andrews Dearest Peter,
My heart jumps a beat for you x dunno if this works. tried once before. no luck, but nevermind daft optomist here...
spose i just wanted to say keep going - it can be done... life without these things is possible. My dad has tested it out more chemicals than ICI over the last 40 years or so (inc. smack) and for most of my teens he had a very rampant coke habit, and my mum had probs with solvents (she ended up at her parents, aged 23, being cared for like a baby) but both have muddled thru to get used to a life without their various substances (dad still smokes more weed than Howard Marks and drinks like a fish, but it's 100000 times better than before) - and my mum now works with heroin users so she's seen that it can be done...
look, i know this isn't the usual poetic sweetness that most people write but for once i wanted to keep to plain speaking cos this is pretty close to my heart and any meandering into Bilo-speak would trivialise it for me a bit...
anyway, yout hotmails probably busting with mail and i should really a) sober up and b) go to bed (workles in a few hours and still not gone to bedlam) but wanted to say get yourself on track, take care, and good luck whether you decide to lead the Libs to great things or become an accordian-playing hermit in the Hebrides - you've got everyone else to tell you you're a genius in music and wordsmithery - i just wanted to say have hope.
love, tea n gaspers
Lucy xx
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La vida esta llena de colores y de contrastes, a veces la cabeza se nos llena de colores fuertes que nos llenan el alma y nos hacen sentir vivos, pero otras veces es el negro y el blanco los colores que inundan nuestras mentes, son estos dos colores los que nos hacen sentirnos solos, desesperados, tristes y nos cierran el camino de la vida, pero son etapas que hay que superar, es en esos momentos en los que hay que sacar del corazon un poco de fuerza y no dejarse derrotar, sacar un poco de rojo, azul, verde, amarillo, rosado, morado,...., naranja y volverle a llenar nuestras vidas de colores. A veces la distancia no nos permite vivir y llenar nuestros ojos de los lindos colores, pero la musica suple ese vacio y me llena el alma, su musica en especial me hace sentir que vivo y por que vivo, desde hace poco llego a mi vida esa "libertad" que me ha permitido disfrutar mas a fondo la vida, pero eso no contra resta que uno se siga sintiendo solo. (tal vez ud no sepa español, pero mi ingles es pesimo, espero que algo entienda y le deseo lo mejor y que se mejore, la vida hay que vivirla al maximo y por lo que me puedo dar cuenta ud lo esta haciendo, pero no hay que acabar con ella por llegar al maximo estamos jovenes para morir, y eso lo unico que logra es acercarnos cada vez mas a esa tal vez temida o esperada muerte) Desde colombia le deseo lo mejor.
_______________________________________________________________________________ Well i will try to write in english its difficult but, i would like to tell u that i wish u the best i hope u get well soon (i know its a litter late but the intention is the important) well i hope that u can understand what i wrote above and ur music makes me feel something inside me that i never know that exist. well my english sucks and be happy!!!
La vida esta llena de colores y de contrastes, a veces la cabeza se nos llena de colores fuertes que nos llenan el alma y nos hacen sentir vivos, pero otras veces es el negro y el blanco los colores que inundan nuestras mentes, son estos dos colores los que nos hacen sentirnos solos, desesperados, tristes y nos cierran el camino de la vida, pero son etapas que hay que superar, es en esos momentos en los que hay que sacar del corazon un poco de fuerza y no dejarse derrotar, sacar un poco de rojo, azul, verde, amarillo, rosado, morado,...., naranja y volverle a llenar nuestras vidas de colores. A veces la distancia no nos permite vivir y llenar nuestros ojos de los lindos colores, pero la musica suple ese vacio y me llena el alma, su musica en especial me hace sentir que vivo y por que vivo, desde hace poco llego a mi vida esa "libertad" que me ha permitido disfrutar mas a fondo la vida, pero eso no contra resta que uno se siga sintiendo solo. (tal vez ud no sepa español, pero mi ingles es pesimo, espero que algo entienda y le deseo lo mejor y que se mejore, la vida hay que vivirla al maximo y por lo que me puedo dar cuenta ud lo esta haciendo, pero no hay que acabar con ella por llegar al maximo estamos jovenes para morir, y eso lo unico que logra es acercarnos cada vez mas a esa tal vez temida o esperada muerte) Desde colombia le deseo lo mejor.
_______________________________________________________________________________ Well i will try to write in english its difficult but, i would like to tell u that i wish u the best i hope u get well soon (i know its a litter late but the intention is the important) well i hope that u can understand what i wrote above and ur music makes me feel something inside me that i never know that exist. well my english sucks and be happy!!!
>From: "Donna MacMillan" <donnabot@hotmail.com>
>To: peterlibertine@hotmail.com
>Subject: RE: Hi
>Date: Fri, 21 May 2004 00:08:58 +0000
>
>thank you (if its really you!)
>
>can't wait to see u at t in the park!
>love donna
>
>
>>From: "Peter Doherty" <peterlibertine@hotmail.com>
>>To: donnabot@hotmail.com
>>Subject: RE: Hi
>>Date: Fri, 21 May 2004 00:07:09 +0000
>>
>>xx
>>
>>
>>>From: "Donna MacMillan" <donnabot@hotmail.com>
>>>To: peterlibertine@hotmail.com
>>>Subject: Hi
>>>Date: Thu, 20 May 2004 21:35:48 +0000
>>>
>>>Oh Peter, i hope you're doing ok. I hope you get better soon and
>>>continue to make beatiful music. You have touched my life in more
>>>ways than you can possibly imagine. Im sorry to clog up your
>>>email account.
>>>Love you
>>>Donna
hello everybody, hope this mail finds you all well. happy easter by the way, it came and went, without me noticing. they don't have have easter eggs, bunnies and bonnets in this far flung land.
but, it is a new season here in japan, and as all japanese people will tell you, the definition between the seasons is something to go mad about. unlike in england, where apparently even a train cannot arrive on time, here the sun shines on time, the cherry blossoms bloom and die on time, and the people follow suit, removing the pizza dumplings from the convenience store on time, and changing the hot drinks in the vending machines back to cold. so as you can imagine, my staple diet has had to change dramatically.
but spring is in the air, and after much contemplation, my life is about to change dramatically. in japan, people admire the cherry blossoms as they reflect the impernance and beauty of life itself, so around this time of year, a lot of time is devoted to drinking oneself blind drunk under a pretty tree (which is virtually ignored for the afternoon) and then puking. well actually, this year i chose to spend my time a little differently, enjoying the odd days of spare time alone with my camera, taking endless photos and really doing a lot of thinking about my life. how the cherry blossom season represents life itself is a particularly resonant idea in a country where the pace of life is like that of a bullet train, and for me in particular, really quite poignant since i seem to just survive this life catching odd moments of sleep on crowded trains as they rattle through the metropolis, taking me to job after job after job.... it wasn't until i sat down under a tree i realised how thoroughly burned out i am, and how far i am away from realising my dreams and what i came here to do. i guess right now, the soundtrack to my life would be the elevator music that endlessly plays in these huge skyscrapers, and that's not the soundtrack i want for my life thank you very much. i am holding down 2 very good jobs now and have various other things on the go, but i've decided to quit the lot and and take a huge leap of faith with my photography. i have some contacts, yet no guarantees (i guess thee aren't any in this life). all i want is time to think and get something together and see how far i can get. so as of may 10th not only can you expect more e mails, but also, my full time job is going to be...artist!! i have some exhibition spaces lined up, as yet no funding, but i have a few decent looking trees to bark up so i'm just going to take a chance on life and try and achieve my dreams....
watch this space! well, i really hope that spring is bringing you all the same (perhaps unrealistic, mildly idiotic) optimism as myself. i don't think i've ever been happier!
tell me your news, lots of love tamara x x x x
Hello heavyhorse, You have received a new private message to your account on "thelibertines.com" and you have requested that you be notified on this event. You can view your new message by clicking on the following link: - Hi Pete, My name is Cat. I gave you a Valentine's card in Liverpool...did you find a Valentine to go with my card? I am missing the Libs at the mo. Are you coming to the north-west soon? Hope you had a good Easter, I'm boycotting from now on cos it's a waste of time. At least I got a break from my 9to5 though... love Cat xxx Dear Peter Good to hear you're out. Hope things are going ok, waking in a clean, warm double bed sounds comforting. I wanted to send you this quote which a very dear friend wrote to me when I went through my darkest hour. Maybe one day when I meet you I can tell you the story it doesn't involve drugs only how I nearly lost the love of my life throught the stupidity of his friend. The quote is from the Lord of the Rings but the words stayed with me and in times of need I dig out this card and read it. Frodo was now safe in the Last Homely House east of the sea. That house was, as Bilbo had long ago reported, 'a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or story telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all'. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness, fear and sadness. J.R.R.Tolkien- Lord of the Rings. Angels Raphael and Michael smile upon child of light. Be good With love and light Cxx hey pete, ive just visited your site...jesus man, you have so many people that need and love you...you're the luckiest wanker alive...get well and dont let them down. aileen message from me mum Sir, get some proper food down your neck, or she'll force feed you a roast xx Remember that you can always choose not to be notified of new messages by changing the appropriate setting in your profile. -- Thanks, Kirsty and Kirsty
>From: "ben robinson" <k0bain@hotmail.com> >To: peterlibertine@hotmail.com >Subject: RE: thank you so much, i am now the happiest person on the planet1 >Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2004 18:14:50 +0000 > >i am humbly sorry. but being as sorry as i am, i didnt really under >stand that last e-mail(the one im replying to) sorry for anything >said that shouldnt have been said. maby we can start again. >yours faithfully >ben x > > >>From: "Peter Doherty" <peterlibertine@hotmail.com> >>To: k0bain@hotmail.com >>Subject: RE: thank you so much, i am now the happiest person on the >>planet1 >>Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2004 18:10:51 +0000 >> >>Dear Ben, >>listen mate, don't say shit like that noone's better`than noone >>don't gimme that pap my son.. it doesn't become you >>yours faithfully, Peter x >> >> >>>From: "ben robinson" <k0bain@hotmail.com> >>>To: peterlibertine@hotmail.com >>>Subject: RE: thank you so much, i am now the happiest person on >>>the planet1 >>>Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2004 17:30:54 +0000 >>> >>>dear peter.. >>>shit!!! i got another one. pwah. i don't get much better than >>>that!. >>>how was the elephant and castle gig last nite?? >>>did u really mean that i make you happy? me, an insignificant no >>>one, specially compared to you. >>>i love you even more now. i am so damn happy!! >>>love benxxx >>> >>> >>>>From: "Peter Doherty" <peterlibertine@hotmail.com> >>>>To: k0bain@hotmail.com >>>>Subject: RE: thank you so much, i am now the happiest person on >>>>the planet1 >>>>Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2004 17:27:36 +0000 >>>> >>>>dear Ben, >>>>aah, you soppy old whatsit... i think we make each other happy. I >>>>mean that .. Arcady is upon us >>>>nd unity and splendour skip hand in hand >>>>peter x ever yours >>>> >>>> >>>>>From: "ben robinson" <k0bain@hotmail.com> >>>>>To: peterlibertine@hotmail.com >>>>>Subject: thank you so much, i am now the happiest person on the >>>>>planet1 >>>>>Date: Sun, 04 Apr 2004 12:30:55 +0000 >>>>> >>>>>dear peter, >>>>>i cannot beleive that i got an e-mail from my idol and one an >>>>>only hero. >>>>>thank you so much for taking the time to read and reply to my >>>>>e-mail. you have made me the happiest person on the planet!!! >>>>>maby it is time that i set an agenda. well, (oh fuck im so happy >>>>>i can't think of one!) maby if you set an agenda it will be more >>>>>interesting >>>>>with love, ben x >>>>> >>>> >>> >> > thats me. the other e-mail probably had more interesting stuff on it(the one i just sent you). i dont mean to be pushy. i would do anything for you if you asked. thats how madly in love i am with the libertines and you. please can we keep up the frequent comunication. it is making me so happy, and is raising me out of the depressesd puddle i have been in for several months. love ben xx
Good morning Peter,
From Devon, I'm e-mailing you. In the early hours of the morning. I'm trying to think of reasons to stay awake, I don't think I could fall asleep yet, even though I'm ridiculously tired. Pepping myself up with drinks of coca cola and orange squash, and e-mailing everyone I'm able to write a near interesting e-mail to. It feels like an age since I've last been to a Libertines gig, or a gig of yours at least. Things keep cropping up, really unavoidable things. I'm wracking my brains actually, trying to think of the last time... I think it was the rock against racism gig. Things keep jumping in the way. There were some gigs a few weeks back, but I was stuck in severe financial shit, misjudging the money I'd spent, and then my rent being paid, leaving me with £5 cash on my window sill to last me 4 weeks or so. Ended up having to beg my Mum to send me a tenner in the post for food, then got the bus to the bank to get a student credit card thing. I dread to think of all the debt I'm getting myself into. I keep telling myself it'll all get paid off some day... some day. That doesn't matter at the moment though. I'm back home in Devon for 4 more days. I came home to spend Easter and my 21st birthday with my parents. Things are a bit strange at the moment. My Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer a couple months back, so I've been wanting to be home here as much as possible. Apparently it's not spread anywhere else in his body, and they can contain it within the prostate with regular injections, but they're not able to give him chemotherapy to completely remove it, because he had a course of chemotherapy in the 70s to treat his ankylosing spondylitis arthritis - they used chemotherapy to treat that back then, so chances are he'll never be cured of it. It's so sad. When I'm away from home thinking about it I can get really upset, but when I'm actually home here it's completely different, from the way everyone behaves it's as if nothing's wrong, which I suppose is the best way to be. Why cry over milk that's not been spilt yet? Or something.
Ah that's too morbid. Devon's doing me good. Appledore is possibly the most quaint village in England. To describe it, it's all built along one main road, the same road you take to enter the village is the road you take to leave it. First of all there's Kingsley Road, which runs past the primary school I used to go to, with Anchor park opposite it, then down Richmond Road, past the old red phonebox on the corner, down past Odun Road, which was supposedly the site of an ancient Viking battle, along Marine Parade past the butchers and the British Legion Hall, then along the quayside, next to the River Torridge, turning left along the riverfront, with the Co-Op, Post Office and Quay Gift shop, incidentally behind these is Market Street which houses the Newsagents I worked for in one way or another from 12-18, carrying along the Quayside to the carpark, Dave Hocking's Ice Cream van, then up a slight hill to the Appledore Baptist Church, where my Mum is currently a deacon, then the graveyard and the St. Marys Church, along a little more to the St. Marys Church Hall that used to host my Beavers and Cub Scouts meetings every... Thursday night I think, along a little further to Irsha Street, a really narrow street with small little houses either side, and the river Torridge again on the other side, carry along, past the Beaver and the Royal George pubs, further still out toward the lifeboat slip and the rock pools, on the corner of Appledore, looking out over to Hartland Point on the other side of the Estuary, and far out the other way Bideford Bay, which leads out to the Atlantic Ocean, in the midst of the water you can, on a clear day, make out Lundy Island, a small island in the middle of Bideford Bay which is home to a handfull of people and hundreds of puffins. There's a ship that takes visitors out the Lundy Island during the summer, for day trips, there's little there other than an old church, and a few houses, but the greenery, and the views are amazing, you can just walk it for hours on end. And there's a few beaches which are nice for a little bit of lazing around when the sun gets too much. Anyway, back to the village... Up past the lifeboat slip to Jubilee Road, further on up to The Mount, with the tenement flats where my Gran lives, in her den of hardback books, then walking up the muddy side path, toward Lookout Field, the most beautiful sight in the entire world. You climb over a small stile, and then into the field, which is sometimes full of sheep or cows, other times just covered in their droppings, ignoring this, looking out over the entire Bideford Bay, and the Taw and Torridge Estuary, over Hartland Point, Saunton Sands, Baggy Point on one side, and Bideford Bay itself on the other, searching far out to the wide sea that leads to the Atlantic Ocean. When the tide is in it's just a mass of water, but when the tide is out the Estuary is a wide expanse of sand with the odd lake of water here and there, which eventually leads out again to the ocean.
Lookout field is my favourite place in the world. I've not been able to take a walk up there yet, annoyingly, because the weather has been cold and raining since I came back home, I want to try to before I go back toward London though. I want to take my book and a pen up there and just sit and write and write and write. I want to come back here for a few days in the summer and do just that, in the summer sun. I never appreicated these things as much when I lived here full time. And now that I'm about to move away from here near enough for good I'm starting to realise what I'm about to leave behind. It's hard, but I think much more is waiting for me up in London.
So yeah, Devon's done me good. I've had quite a lazy time so far. Going to go into town on Saturday night for birthday celebrations, though most of my old friends from round here are off other places now, backpacking or off at uni somewhere. A few of them are still about, earning an honest wage, and they've promised to give me a decent night. Then easter eggs and a roast dinner on Sunday, a final lazy day on Monday, and then I'm back up to London on Tuesday for 2 more weeks of my Easter holidays. I'm hoping to get to the For Lovers single launch on Tuesday. And then I believe there's something going on on Thursday. It all sounds good anyway.
Right, it's 4am now. Time for me to turn in for the night. Hot cross buns for Good Friday breakfast in the morning!
Take care, Love hello, peter. why is it i only write to you when im drunk. im sorry if when i wrote you the last message i gave the impression theat i was annoyed with you. to be honest, when i wrote it i didnt think that you would read it so when i got a reply i felt quite bad cos i felt that the whole stan stylee message was quite harsh. so i am sorry for that. and i really don't expect you to write everyday, because im sure that you are quite busy and you have other things to attend to. im really cold at the moment, as the heatings not on, and ive only just got in from being out. do you have many easter eggs? i remember when i used to have loads! i only get one now, and thats from my mom. i have a white maltesers one this year. i love white chocolate. don't you think it's the best? so, yeah, i just wanted to say hi, and check you're doing ok. im gonna go to bed now, as it is almost half three in the morning. im on work at half 12 tomorrow. although i guess it's today now, isnt it? i work at clarks shoe shop incase you wondering. well done for getting on the a list on radio one. i heard your song thre times today!!!! nighty night, and good luck in everything. i hope the gods of arcady give you blessed riches and fortunes aswell. lots of love marie (aka, jane eyre) xx
ah well it doesnt matter must have just got the wrong end of the stick
cheers though
lots of love jess x
Hows it going Mr Doherty, Ive just stumbled across some Babyshambles songs and was very impressed(Kill a man for his Giro was superb), although a positive move for you and the crew of Babyshambles I feel a slightly bit insecure about the Libertines and its future. I know that this is incredably selfish of me as, apart from the music I know nothing about you. I feel this new project is extremely exiting and look forward to the first release, although the Libertines is a very speical thing and hope it does not end, the libs are a volatile band, like the greatest bands are(the sex pistols), please take care and good luck with the new band but takr the rough with the smooth, it will makes things better in the end! i'm sooooo happy to hear that! there is a rumor that you're coming to fujirock festival, i hope it would be true. i'm looking forward to seeing you again
i'm always thinking about you. and your new single is beautiful!!
take care,
Chia x
Dear Peter, Ahh, I'm a stranger to you, and there's no real reason for me writing this, other than I was taken by an urge and thought I should. And what harm can it do? I just thought I'd say ta a bit... I had a bit of a dark night this evening and was feeling tossy. Who'd have thought I could lose myself in a song for a few minutes and come out feeling so much dandier. Last Post on the Bugle, Peter... it seems odd but there's a purity in that song and so many of your others that it couldn't help but give me faith in the strength of a small song in a dark hour. Does this make sense? I can't explain it but I don't really want to, like when I'm playing a song I don't have external feelings but that's the beauty. I just thought I'd send you this note so that you know, I listened to the song and i picked up the guitar and things didn't matter for those minutes. If ever you doubt, a song can do a world of good to restore my happiness, so don't lose yours. To you and the rest of the Libertines (and while you're at it anyone sailing on the Albion, innit), up the bracket! and I'll buy you a drink, as a perhaps more tangible sign of gratitude. Knowhatimean? Phil x tried you twice on that mobile via text message, me pal- but no return! either 1) I have the wrong or old number
2) you too busy this day!
so i stay home and listen to Funtime off The Idiot by iggy pop and play with audrey the puppy here at Anna's awesome flat that i'm babysitting foir a while.....
Pete, I hope you are well; I know you have the strength to get through this. I'm just a random person that you don't know but this is just a quick note to say that you're in my thoughts, and I hope you feel better soon. hugs Fiona sir, i hope all is going well with you.
x -- ---
Dear Peter, I've read on the Babyshambles forum a lot of letters from fans and friends giving you overwhelming support and encouragement while you are where you are. I'm a fan and it's horrible to know that you are where you are, without even having met you. Good luck getting back on the straight and narrow and look forward to hearing your new stuff. Not really much else to say to somebone I don't know. Take care of yourself. A Boy Named Sue. PS. Is Morrissey just like he is on TV? I've never been sure if it was sort of an act he puts on or if he genuinely is that cynical. Hmmm. A thought to
hey thanks peter, just one more! (before the affects of alcohol kicked in) was a great nite, expected to see you & carl there though, we didnt make it to the barfly...maybe next time
corinne x
ps: we're in the making of an indie-slut website - will keep you posted!
[edit] 7:17 PM
I must away.... from the cycle of destruction. I heed the words you say, and many a friend to take my hand and lead me from the fiends that savour the shadows contoured infinite upon the craggier scallyalley goodgollywog teddy boy bear alley pally
yeah yeah all gigs are off including the festivals I was 'too unwell' to play last year who'll to Paris this very night (secrets secrets I never keep so am useless to Rough Trade, Morrissey, Carlos, Nadine or so.. Carl wouldn't wanna, don't wanna be in a band with someone who's house I am not welcome at when in my heart I wish to live still in Albion Rooms with his highness) Nadine but we are better friends to each other and I never needed a friend so bad we've seen it all together and no worse could come of us so let us do as friends do and have a laugh together and bitch about respective revolving doors of fiances and skirmishes) Get to London
[edit] 8:13 PM
Meanwhile, back at the flophouse
[70]
The story begins at the end, cue stix and stones
[edit] May 29 2004, 7:46 PM
Re: text us pete [71]
please my love come back to meWhat time u playing tonite. RonniePeter. I am writing 2 let u know there is a monk frm thamkrabok in london 2moro who can help u if u want (dot is sincere) email info@tkbuk.com 4 my no. Tris.Hi babes,can you call me please.xxWanna squeeze an hour's chat in today u elusive sod? The trail keeps going cold and it gets my goat up. Any road, I'd like to see u as it's been ages since u paid my eyes a compliment. RSVP butty!PETER CUM OVER IF U DARE GRAB THE MOMENT QUICKLY IT MAY NEVER PASS AGAIN LIFE IS ABOUT GREAT MEMORIES AND U HAVE A LIFE 2 MAKE THEM GRAB EACH MOMENT QUICKLY eed one ! Jennie x Its jonny&emma's birthday party this sat & you are invited to come dress up! starts 8pm at lincon lounge on york way next to kingscross tube get there b4 11pm..Yespeter, u will hurt astile in the long run if u do things like sell stories. please put & end 2 this. go 2 thailand with rini or ur mum 2 that place. call me ifu can find it in urself to. the next thing u do will be the start of the rest of ur life. make ur son proud. mammaLeaving dover 3 .45 should b at amy's about 6pm can u c me 2nite ? Call me or txt me.mum xgo to a doctor and i ll get you a ticket first thing i m looking for a place for us to stay.Hi Peter u left an inhaler in my car + your mums no isOUTSIDE GUNTER IF U WANT 2 C ME COME OUT OR TEXT IF NOT NO DRAMA CATCH U LATER .what number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call you on you are driving me mad.xxxwhat number can i call 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driving me mad.xxx peter.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again .i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me againi hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again. Peterri hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again. Rini
peter.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again Peter peter.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again .i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again peter.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again peter.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never
peter.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again peter.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again .i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again .i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again.i hurt myself last night.you are destroying me.if you don t get help you ll never see me again Peter are you ok? L xSomeone.who.cares.4.some.one.thatsnot.like.every.body.elseR.u.playin.2.night.where.Why do birds suddenly appear? Every time you are near. Just like me they long to be close to you xHi pete where u at man i have the groceries i cant sit here just looking at it forever steveIv been intensely working, meating dead lines no time for much extraneous thought but i hope ur doing ok. ('hope' sounds so feeble,but u know what i mean) xx I called m cant do it until 7.30 waiting for a bus at green park back soonWorried about ya. Take care JPeter, if you get this then Txt back..Just let me know you're ok, safe..Whatever. Have been with nadine Tonite about to go home tho. Doors always open. Dazy xxi know your in safe hands.exactlly where you should be.if you would go back to a clinic i ll come back be with you every step of the way.it would be the best peter.where are youHi Peter are u ok? + how is your mum take care L Gill xWhats happening. RonnieWhats happening. RonnieAlrite if u r feeling good by then the paddingtons and unstrung are playing in telford if u want to come?Do you still get these? Who knows! My song alongside yours.. Radio one.. Iloveyou. X x x xx x x x x xx xWell done for deciding that. Good move. Very proud. I know how much it means. And the hat. Love you you wabdanger xxsweetheart,i keep calling on amy s phone but there is no answer.i hope you re well.i love you.rinibirthday present you could ever give mei know your in safe hands.exactlly where you should be.if you would go back to a clinic i ll come back be with you every step of the way.it would be the best wow back to the priorey mister pete? I t mu s t b e l o v e. f.e.e.l.i.n.gc.a.l.l.e.d.l.o.v.e
[edit] June 7 2004, 2:11 PM
Re: text us pete
“thank you for the letter It made me feel better”
Bilo Doubt you'll remember me but i was at the Leeds Babyshambles gig and met you outside the cockpit. you signed my arm and gave me a t shirt which u wrote on. ill treasure it. wise words my friend. i know the worst for u will soon be over and you'll be back on course. why not have a break and come up to leicester to visit me and my friends. a bed for the night will be no problem wanted to come to priory but no joy. we would pay you for a little acoustic sing song let me know how ur feeling pete, Bilo will returm bigger and stronger when i met u, u seemed on top of the world and gave me much words of wisdom and advice i long to know how u r and how ur feeling please get in touch pete Tim {Dear Tim thank you for the kind words and gestures, I can’t begin to reply to people unless I had secretary but hopefully this little collage will show people that I do read through everything and take it all to heart, peter]
Hi Peter
I really hope you don't mind me writing to bother you with something like this, but I came across the following lyrics/poetry on the Babyshambles website and I'd love to know where they come from. Any enlightenment would be most appreciated!
"strike a light, raise your glasses, drink a toast to the bohemian classes.. of albion eh?
spilling out your soul. love is on the dole.
you are beautiful. yeah?"
Best wishes,
love
Jenni xx
{Dear Jenni, these are slightly abridged Libertine lyrics from a song I wrote about three or four years ago callen ‘Love on the Dole’ or ‘Love is on the Dole’ the full lyrics are: How many cups of wine I have consumed The people reel as they roll past my tomb We’re drinking whiskey in a brave new afternoon The people reel as they roll past my tomb… (singin’) Strike a light Raise your glasses drink a toast to the ruling classes….of Albion - ay! But when you’re spewing out your soul..sing :Love is on the dole And there she will stay… Old nick rubs your broken nose on the grindstone You wake and then you slave and so your soul is not your own… In my dust and gloom, I burn my secrets to keep me warm It’s all I can do to keep them from you and salty pact we swore.. (strike a light etc..all night long we were singing northern songs) I love every inch of you Yes I do I love the bones of you But didn’t you get that warm glow inside.. Shoots up your spine and blows through your mind Now don’t you tell me how blessed are the meek you never turned the other cheek once in your life And love is on the dole.. Svengali was a preacher on the albion stage Screaming vice pretty preacher in the good old days Drinking whiskey in a brave new afternoon The people reel as they roll past my tomb… But don’t you tell me how blessed are the poor You always wanted one slice more than oh poor me..there’s nowhere left to go now..and love is on the dole”}
peter, And they say new love grows on trees.alright?how you doing?firstly,ignore the pretentious email address.im using my sisters account.she doesn't use it so feel free to email me back.nice to see the albion ambassador playing for the people again, back with your comrades when we need you most. Just a couple of classics that remind me how to be a child again.I have chosen those i knew and liked best in my own nursery days, and i have kept to the versions that i was familiar with. I think one may do so, as nursery rhymes have until recently been handed on only by oral tradition with its inevitable variations.At home we had no complete book of them: most we knew came direct from our elders. The children of the present day often have several different printed versions of the same rhyme, but they do not seem to be confused by them. they make their own choice, ad liberato, and go on inventing variations. And however much they alter and add yo our old friend Mother Goose's original collection, they still make use oh her name.enjoy...
See-saw sacradown, Which is the way to london town? One foot up and the other foot down, That is the way to London town.
Solomon Grundy, Born on a Monday, Christened on Tuesday, Married on Wednesday, Took ill on Thursday, Worse on Friday, Died on Saturday, Buried on Sunday: This is the end Of Solomon Grundy
The man in the wilderness asked me How many strawberries grew in the sea. I answered him as i thought good, As many red herrings grew in the wood.
There was a little boy and a little girl Lived in an alley; Says the little boy to the little girl, "Shall I, Oh! shall I?" Says the little girl to the little boy, "What shall we do?" Says the little boy to the little girl, "I will kiss you."
well there, a small slice of my innocent, unindoctrinated childhood. would very much appreciate a slice of yours in reply. forever waiting for insight,inspiration and intellect, emilyxxxx [Dear Emily, I remember There once was a girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her fore’d When she was good she was very good, When she was bad she was ‘orrid.
Also wiggling toes saying ‘we liiiike yoou’ ahem. Peter}
Dear Peter I do still write, songs mainly, its not some thing you can stop really. If it’s in you, you have to get it out before it burns you up. I can’t remember what I put in my email to you before- it was in the depths of last year but I must have mentioned urban bohemia, which was a fucking brilliant bit of writing. Are you still a poet or is it all music and song? diana
Hi, Do you remember of me? Probably not. I was in Basel with a frien of me, Pierre for your concert more than one year ago. We saw you at the King Tuts Wha Wha in Glasgow where you gave us a pass (thanks)... I just had a question: when do you come back to switzerland? Of course, it's a small country, without a lot of fan of you, etc. but we want some good bands here too! Thanks very much... see you as soon as I got enough money to come to england! Happy New Year! Philippe
Hey, so I heard that you're in Paris now.. you would love to play a secret gig, don't you :D hmm.. a lot of persons (including me) would sure love, tough. that would be ama-ama-amazing. thanks mag.
Hello, well you don't know me at all. You're probably used to strange people telling you how wonderful you are; I suppose it'll just sound the same coming from me, but you are are, really. I don't even know what to say, I just know that if I say nothing at all I'll kick myself after. I never know what to say, maybe because it'd sound too normal or boring. So i'll leave it at that, I never know what to say, and if I do, I don't have the confidence to say it, so maybe just saying hi would have been good enough.
So anyway, take care - Ualani x
i'll dismiss this misunderstading . i dont even know yu- but there is no junkbox that can eclipse our corona for the bark of ye 'Dogs' is nigh and upon yu like a pig on a truffle just thought i would warn yu....... much admiration woof You may have already heard that there is a ridiculous myth in South Africa, in that having sex with a virgin will cure AIDS. The younger the virgin, the more potent the cure. This has led to an epidemic of rapes by infected males, with the correspondent infection of innocent children. Many have died in these cruel rapes.
[edit] temporary header
[edit] June 13 2004, 9:03 PM
Libertine geeeezaa aintya? faaaa Bangskockles [72]
hotel room seventies faya do ran ya cro but no what you'd think, a typing thorough bred night that might go down as the finest ever ra rarar
All letters came to the monastry and it was the final straw that they'd opened its lot . away on me toes I think is the expression. One letter was too much to resist and through the rain we speed in a car to the finest bar in the world aye and Thai what not secondary t-shirt kids bent on being themselves or attempting the happiness people all out are to forge and sell ya and halfway through the football I'll remark on not recognizing myself at all. I did survive the crash - but rushed through and like the rainy season I came recently. Mari Kimberleena James Carl Alan Mum Ben you've got a friend in me Bailey Kirsty Kirsty Kirsten
[edit] 9:05 PM
Oh and jACK I'll be honest with you to a man, let me just nip out and get a journal to recap.
[edit] 9:13 PM
ah sloping like shadowless voyages thought of long before the event but never managed or staged 'cept in dreamless night that make some lad from Manchester yeah yeah called Lee wake up after 'fibe' minutes sleep in fifteen days thinking he's on fire
he
took
his medicine
watch the photo still nicotine based departures from cursed haggles pointless they'll have you before they tuck in
sly
like
a
plot
beleif and superduperstition are different
and an old old friend with nothing but ourselves I couldn't give a fuck - (this you know ) - a song doesn't become heartbreaking or not depending on who is managing to hold the phone lines up above the brown swamp water you supposed to wash in to channel it to you yes you oh don't listen I'll never reach the pointless end of it
I had a n i d e a we'd win. Very timed
I didn't know what a friend was but now I'll come to it:
[edit] 9:25 PM
sevenless pour me another you'd swap a junky for an alcki wouldn't you babes? (uncertain nods) The most inept that ever crept tied to the mast
you
give me fever
I forgot what it was to be this light hearted about calamity
so what does it matter I'll never be able to listen to that strokes album again without thinking of the poem I wrote for the yellow butterfly poor fucker got battered in the rain when in came
without thinking of... mosquito nets over our prison camp stylee days
these lads are all out contenders for infinity
a monk grips me by the face:
'Pee tt a r! figther! you be stronger no go nogo bangkok'
the abbott did not curse me or put a curse on me like so many other s
but for the first time in their history they've biloed tradition and left the key under the mat nice (like Ian Brown( along the bracket
speaking of which the Libertines are fucking amazing and so are the Bandits - check it out
this is for the G's and this is for the hustlers
this is for the hustlers and back to the G's
before ging back to you know what playing the French
Oh dear is it really all treu? something something lalala and they wanted to sound new
[edit] June 16 2004, 11:17 AM
best intentions are in hock/ I'm living on a chinese rock [73]
gangland bangkok
shot at in the lobby
police cyclops stylee
turn a blind eye
bilo up a blind alley
get me the fuck out of ere
[edit] June 20 2004, 9:16 PM
what Kirsties didn;'t [74]
anything going up ??
[edit] 12:40 PM
Re: On its way....
I've been sick for years honey, but I still managed to write the fucking things
(ooooh get 'er, bitchy)
[edit] 10:17 PM
'Piss me off'
I saw Mark today, he of Rhythm Factory and trilby wearing legend and he gave me 'piss me off' which is a c.d of the Libertines set at the.org party in April including 15 Libertines tracks live (and Peter Perrett onstage with us doiung nuvvergirlanoitherplanet) apart from me fucking up the start of I get along and some gibberish from the compere it's a wicked live recording as far as they go. I'm gonna knock up a bootleg at cost price.who would like one? Maybe it's best to loop the bilo and whack it up on the net. It's a really tight set and sounds blinding.
Furthermore we have got together a few dates for some gigs at the r.f next week. there'll be bands one night and various performing artists and maybe seals and clowns all being well. and we'll also be resurrecting the old 'Arcadia at the Foundry' vibe and encouraging poets to come and delight the crowd with readings and accompanyinmg gestures. Is there anyone on here who would like to come and perform some of their writing?
Peter x
p.s: this thursday at Filthy's (no really this time) acoustic set from meself, to try a few new songs out.
[edit] 10:23 PM
I'd love to do Glastonbury.. I've never even been. I'll have to speak to Biggles if he's back yet. Is it too late to do it? Will he want to? Is Alan about tonight?
[edit] July 29 2004, 5:44 AM
please don't play to p of the pops or reading Leedswithout me if you have any heart or beleif in me. I 'm sorting it out, it's ok. don't be daft., I'm wanting to speak to you. I need to speak to you. there's these songs I can't get out of my head
I'm off and about the Allbion singing them. I've got a lot of energy and good people about me, Chev, Jim, Dot, Andrew, Matt, Jai and my mum I need to speak to you mum I've got a new phone.
whatever happens, from now in and I'm here if or when you need me, I send all my love and wish you well
Peter x
[edit] August 12 2004, 5:36 AM
killamangiro sessions, 2 killer.hertz studios, Scrubs Lane, London W12 [75]
on paper - where words can run riot
and rip it out of reality like noones busines -
life is wearily worn like a placard
advertising cliches and rotton gestures.
hideous jerked reactions to my imagined
or magnified misdemeanours - like the
year of war of the weird has begun - this
proof that the crowd is mostly a stinking quicksand,
The affection and faith in love and music
some trojan horse. You can't see in here tho'...
into the third infinite night of my current reality
A ship - Albion she was long ago christened
-Arcady bound, sailing with zest, occasional tidal waves
of tears and rare musical accompanyment. Patrick, Gemma
Drew and Peter like missing long seperated
torn out leafs from some yeah!brill' book
Dead quiet in the oceangrey sky, miles of gravestones buckling under the weight of still earth, loving memories litter dark trees who've stood about for the revolving centuries, never talking to each other
thuddin' the drums mixing the air, smoggy dawn across the cemetry's still horizon, the spindly barrell frame of the old gasworks where the grandfather I never knew worked. The mornings father - resting tomorrow with nosey old holiday makers tripping in the thin clouds. I lay on the grassy steps, always smoking
I shout silent
stunned rage
reddening lips wrapped about jagged barrelled glass
the demons immune to the fumes now
strengthening with the poison
nauseous smoke drowning lungs and pranging the
mind to mangle the self
selfish light yellow yardie rock and rolling eyes
3rd world sticker printers
sat on wonky kerbs
wondering about the blurred figures
with pink skin in the houses with 'carpets'
_________________________________
/he wasn't very gay / I didn't mind / I wasn't money mad anyway / they killed a man for his giro today...
0h
I wonder am I in the wrong?
Falling into some blank despair sometime yesterday when the money from the acoustic tour came through. The glorious sum of earnings that Jim had promised me, for rent, to pay Dot and support acts, to give to the baby, pay off debts in the absense of a wage these Libertines-booted-out-of days .. came to me coldheartedly as 1800 quid. For ten gigs averaging 2grand ticket sales a show? sold out shows all ovr the show? 1800 quid?
fitting now, bound by love and a friendship
that opens arms, hurtles like a hare or unhurried like a turtle
to shadow melody, race rhyme
and respond to reason with seasonal nonsensical length of
attempts at accents, cadence painting blank pages with sudden character
rer rer re
the new musical express, like a fanzine
going to a fancy dress party disguised as
as a tabloid , in the bag of a confused kid
in the bag kid - the snipers are out in force these days that though narrated with dark, doomladen reports, are clear, creative and as I compose myself in the storm, and catch my breath in rare shelters, I fancy ancient crafts are crafted and never so free, fancy free and full of purpose was peter off paper leastways.
Mostways, if I may be excused from sense, the seasons moods in carved clatter of tin plates and not with gallant or gentle gestures though they are that, my most natural given gin soaked soberself (gin outside the mouth) spilt with rain from a eggshell shower
sneaking in time with chance out of dawn's vocal booth to type up a semblance of what I had in mind my love. My lover. come and flick my nose and rustle my hir and all senses alight now that summer shows off still, and the slow sensual silent movie ..oh? I know 'get a room..' huh. when can I kiss you again?
............
...
.
......
..
...
.......
................
[edit] 7:56 AM
singing new single / shambles - a'save me / that they hap gone an let me to rucking fot [76]
casio warped, and by way of the wandering melody, like silhouettes of our four, the notes know too much now. The man who came to stay plays as it is mixed. We are together still in Kensal Rise. Drew returns from a stroll around the cemetary.. 'a few Doherrty's in there..' and all of my living soul in here, singing my heart out and as London is light shedly upon too. Gemma stretches out on the sofa. not your average eastend lass. Ramones tshirt and boxing boots. Free reignng blushes that are vehemently denied 'I go red when I'm hot'. Pat is as excited and genuine a soul this intimate morning. Boundless energy and fervour for the music. I am with good souls, getting closer and stronger as a band. All around us, true disorder. By the time you read this there should be or hopefully a link to a demo I knocked out this night passed
The Libertines machine oiled and steaming across the continents, is well and truly steamrolling all hope I had.
They still have me in the dark. Japan? oh right.. Amerigoround the states? nice one.. I try at least:
Dear Carl,
I have no malice in me, and cleanlier blood than your current well hidden hypocritical hearty hooter-coke has been allowing you. Yeah yeah yeah, so what. Good luck. I don't think you should believe anyone anymore. Can I clear up the drugs thing finally? You've hurt me too much. Only this now, the same: You are hurting me immensely. Stop it. Album promotion or not, letting 'fans' down or not... I am not in a position at the moment to do the thing that any sane version of myself would do: i.e., inform you of the illegality of your current efforts to 'bracely soldier on'. WE are the Libertines and you are abusing the strength of your position within the realm of 'intimacy and machinisation' . Do not fool yourself into fooling yourself. you are not the Libertines now. Peter x (still talking to himself)
Oh but if you carry on, Babyshambles are gonna show you up as the 'jumping someone elses train' industry bumhole stoppers that you always were. Hear me now.
[edit] August 19 2004, 5:24 PM
at last at last at last/ what worried me just a little bit [77]
wasn't the complete freefalling calamity of friendship this London -as -a -map -of -the -heart- summer was set as a stage for. old love disinterest cordially accepting virtue's invitation to obliterate the scene's obvious overload on operatic fueds and all to tirelessly choreograph flirting and even quick breathless love or so with mirror thin teenagers from just north of nowhere at all.
"of unremarkable" I said all along, quite nonsensically you'd 'aye' in reply. 'We are great friends'
that she was wrong in dismissing the idea so violently. lovers can be friends, no? I mean, in ages after the infinite. You know I don't dwell on these things.. but..the heat changes the body so dramatically. sudden confidence where blank stares often make do with themselves for company
after all that I gave
and was left gawping to look on as it was put aside, and finally carelessly dropped and then long bouts of lets pretend stalemnates, and tuneless worthy success stories.
elsewhere whatsit was changeling from friend to fuckwit and now I'm here, listening to my name being shouted up at the window by a tearful hallucination (if only )
don't want to fight tonight , not with you, or myself or noone. I wanna dance and stroll through raindried streets . take a squeaky wheel rickshaw from Soho to Mount Plkeasant and listen to saome records in the 3 4 5 o'clock era that lets me be.
tonight Babyshambles support Primal Scream at the Shepherds Bush empire. bilo!
[edit] August 24 2004, 12:37 PM
Re: Really?
I beg your pardon? Are the heart minds and melodies involved not bound together and forever, inciting boredom to riot itself off to fuck and regardless anyway of bext nig thing? Well then
[edit] November 16 2004, 4:20 PM
metallic emotion and a show tonight [78]
Kickoff 9.00pm, should be plenty of room as it's lastminute.com (bloomin ppq amy and her catchphrases) as you shall see, hopefully you'll see clearly enough to see what I seen as like as not you might be likely to see or say after you saw.. Babyshambles giving the old wolfster a send off. These weeks past he's been as clean as he's e'er been, but the final nail yankeed out of the spluttering coffin and out he comes.. his mind soul body and flipflop soles slapping his undertoes in LA where helast returned from healthy and hot on the cardboard tail of his own postcard bearing the warning words, or maybe not such a warning but a warming missive: 'Dear Carl and Pete, look out for the Daley Thompson lookalike on the corner, trim, toned and tanned and here;s looking at you from the bum on the corner . love Wolfie x" something like that. Carl gave him a backhander for his writing credits on the Delaney and wolfie got a month in LA rehab and Bigelles got to say he wrote 1/2 a great song...Carl might even come tonight... here's hoping. No hard feelings on this sider and I'll look him in the eye and say theres nary a pipey about for almost as long as when in prizon. Keep it up and he might deem it acceptable to share a stage with me again.
He's off to the same place is Mr Wolfe and tonight we'll get him a plane fare seeing as Cyclops went to its rightful owners and prs havnaeheard a squeak from Creation...
\up the albion!\
x
[edit] October 16, 2005, 5:33 AM
Re: Pete's alright [79]
enjoys London parks, visiting fiance in re-hab, playing guitar and old cigarette tins. also gigs on sundays, eventide or so, are oft to wrap a smile 'round the chops. so tonight we play, bilo and his shadow, somewhere in north east London i'd wager. watch this space for clues clues budding Sherlocks... as for koko and that - you cant cancel gigs that were never even actually booked to my knowledge.. given that i have slept pretty much all the hours since Brixtone. love to all, especially the spiteful cynical haters amongst ye. Peter x
[edit] 5:35 AM
where did the links come from Watson?
[edit] October 25, 2005: The Guardian
Up the Rs - my Hoops dreams [80]
Fair play to Michael Nyman for composing the song for Queens Park Rangers to come out on to the pitch but I've already written a song for when they win the FA Cup. He could do the B-side.
Imagine a relationship that went wrong but you held on in there for years: that's what it is like supporting a football team. Your loyalty to a team can never die. Ties are stronger than they could ever be with a woman. If she goes and sleeps with your best mate, it's over. If the Rs' boss, Ian Holloway, slept with my best mate, QPR would still be my team. Even if many of the things that you loved about going to matches have gone - terraces, team shirts without sponsors and being able to smoke at grounds - you still stick with your team.
When I was a boy, I couldn't imagine anything other than going and living in Ellerslie Road or on the White City estate, near Loftus Road, where Rangers play. That's how central to my existence QPR was. I used to write a QPR fanzine, All Quiet on the Western Avenue. I was brought up in lots of different places, so there was a rootlessness to my life and the team gave me an identity. Playing football brought people together - we'd play against any brick wall, on any kerb, or see if we could put the window through in the art department.
My fondest memories involve things that happened off the pitch. I would climb into Loftus Road in the summer when the stadium was empty and sit there with my little book and pen, smoking a spliff behind the goal. One time, my girlfriend and I got into the dressing room and I stole a pair of shorts. That was one of the most romantic days of my life - snogging in the dressing room at QPR.
My song is a ska number. It goes like this: I'll be, I'll be there/And just before I hit the bar/With the ghost of Rodney Marsh in his pre-smug pundit days/ Before he sold Rangers down the Swanee/With Gerry Francis's offshore money/ It's a toss-up between Mick Jones/And a consortium from the Middle Eastern equivalent of Barrett Homes /I'll be, I'll be there/With blue and white ticker tape in my hair/Up the Rs/Up the Rs/Up the Rs/What a life on Mars.
I'm quite disappointed that I wasn't asked to write the QPR anthem. I'm doing my best for them. I've got a picture of the missus [Kate Moss] in the Rangers shirt inside the sleeve of the new Babyshambles album, Down in Albion. Now that is fantasy football.
[edit] April 28, 2006
sympathy for pete thread
[81]
Title:C U N T S
watch on with pitiless eyes if you will... doubt my integrity... mourn the passing of 'good old days',,,, but do not ever ever even consider considering the the er considerably inconsiderable i mean inconsiderateaccusaTION that it is anything but a staged shot.... if its true the rumour that the Sun have all the other twenty hours film footage , PHOTOS GALORE, and hundreds of hours demos&manyplentiful recordings singing/ banter / gossip / deranged monologues - FROM LAPTOPS ALL STOLEN FROM THE ALBION ROOMS C U N T S - if the vast collection of stolen archives does turn up (well, I'll do a cartwheel first off because the whole lot of footage and whatnot is treasured and is mostly wicked stuffg ie: gigs, courthouse carnage, shortfilms I wrote and 'starred' in (oh god, I just remembered one of them called 'Danish Bacon'. If she dont kill me for losing the polaroids from the other day then you know who will cut my dinger off if they show any clips from that particular mini-DVD. tuyt. these tewars are not fake my dear reader. Its a disaster) so anyuway if they do turn up then , well, I'm loathe to get the old Bill in but the stuff is astolen. Do you hear me? Now, listen, dickheads amongst you... much of the stuff is acting. I have I beleive on this very forum advertised auditions for one of the 'art project' Billy Bilo and the Dingers or something, remember? seriously... I've playedf a few bumnotes in my time, and yes had the odd pipe, but I havn't let you down in an ugly manner so terrible the accusation. Dont let these vampires and vermin poison the melody that runs through all our veins... bloody .... lies
[edit] April 29 2006, 3:09 AM
Thread: Sympathy for Pete
what???? I never banged her up you silly fairy. Don't you see...? I'm a songwriter, not a doctor or a sadist. Or a tabloid journalist who sensationalises and demonizes and gets the anti-Bilo brigade loyalistsa like you to whip themselves up into a frenzy about drugs drugs drugs drugs and drugs and drugs drugs... Nor do I wish to exploit a private relationship. Kiss it you mug.
do you know when I was most out of it ever? Spunking everything on skag and bone and destroyinbg the immediate vicinity? During the making of Up The Bracket.
[edit] 4.59AM
You cannae mention my family. If you knew them, then I'd know you. And I don't. So you don't. So don't, as you shouldnae . to do so being a grande faux pas in this medxium of communication we typle through infinity to 'pissmeoffle' and two, three, 4, 5 greenbars alightup and zapwe're here again and again. let it be for the right reasons.....for example, [and please follow me here..] Racism and right wing idiosyncracies are the reason for the gig later today in Trafalga Square... but although we may enjoy the gathering and the music and the day..we do not - one would hope -enjoy the racism nor celebrate the racist acts that themselves lead to the anti-racist gathering. I'm not wording it so well - pomp and affected turns of phrase being regular bedfellows whenever I type away at network54/188020's flickering face of a screen - but you do understand I'm sure. I propose this as a similar equation to the great Bilo genius / scumbag unto Arcady debate: q/>+ 3% of dingers = mc#' / early Libertines foregn ;policy = current Babyshambles 'works in progress/ untitled masterpieces. Dingers!
[edit] 5.24AM
dumbmingers!
oh fuchit I've just realised the truth of the matter. my fuckinlaptops... each and every one of them, and their little cousins: the many dictaphones, digital cameras and whatnot'leccy gadgets (is gadget still a word?] to have come and gone...Extremely personal and in some cases highly offensive and potentially apocalyptic stuff threrein my viddymatematewsding. The emotional equivalent of flammable. tHE FIreside equivalent of scandalous. The photos of me bumming a tramp's neck are not for the fainthearted.
[edit] 6.50AM
Ah ah ah (wags finger)....now now. You know very well I've got my shit together Mr C... if you mean being happy (anywhere but in a cell)and successful (German libertines royalties allow for increase in hatwear exopenditure) and having the patience to try and coax you and your ilk out of coldhearted oppressive stances when really you need a big hug and singing to. I love you still, you silly creepy internet giffer. Still stings though, reading your one-way doom-laden posts. Ah well, one musn't take it impersonally... now then, anyone got anything REALLY important to tell your (secret) hero? If not I'm off to BrickLane for a coffee and try not to drift into the internet caff.... (whistles, puts coat on, steps over writhing adolescent bodies full of smack poisonings...)
[edit] August 10 2006, 2:01 AM
praaaqnginout.. iseethrough you [82]
so
much
fun
fuuuuuuckin hell....
OH WHATwhoputcapslockon A NIGHT
[edit] 2:12 AM
looks good with short hair basslines a liittle bit busy sometimes but i'm sure he doesn't mean to spank off like most do you know what I mean, my reading fans and pretend haters. ah its just hit me that you do all love me whether you like it or not. blimey. some of you must really hate that. come on then, have a go lets have it. here and now. its about time. me badme bad
[edit] May 1 2007, 6:44 PM
shambles at Olympic...... [83]
so the album is two days undr way... and welll Drew.. any thoughts? " we're about to record french dog blues, ...this is a great room. oh. what you sayin?" er.. i'm coughing actually.. oh and I'm brown free you know! free, loved up, stonefree. "stepen's crackin the whip back to work with us" byebye
[edit] July 12 2007, 10:02 PM
Ladies and Gentlemen... welcome to the Albion Rooms [84]
and I'm at home at last and quite how to detail my surroundings I couldn't say. Perhaps I can get a live link up? .......I have a white apple powerbook and wireless connection. anyone?
[edit] 11:04 PM
the hour is nigh for us to knock out a single and all that comes with it.. which includes a video. Between me and you we're gonna be casting for the 'Delivery' video shoot late next week. I'm looking for immaculate skinhead and mod girls and boys...
[edit] 11:12 PM
strangely Mayfair tonight. Normally richmond super king smooth. Then again Mik has just turned up and he's handing out the silver b& h (with sliding side draw message space)... whatever next
[edit] August 10 2007, 3:30 AM
[85]
It's more of an instrumental with meself narrating a story about a kid who gets a crack round the head for 'messin about' when really his grandad has accidentally put both legs in the same swimtrunk leghole
[edit] 3:42 AM
there's already a song called that
[edit] 3:50 AM
aaah..... interested indeed in Icarus' er in.. h... a b ited icon snuffed it I interested am. Aye
[edit] 3:51 AM
abbeynational?
[edit] 3:58 AM
why not.. providing you're not in the least suseptible (sp) to violent mental illness or TOO obsessive . I remember when I was about 7 in N.Ireland and some animated fellas gathered all the local kids up and put on a puppet show of sorts. Proddies and Catholics giggling together on the slopey grass beside 111 mountview drive co Antrim
[edit] 4:04 AM
you are drunk aren't you ? I'm straight as a die although i was winding myself up reading a few posts here and there, rolling up my sleeves for a grand 'sober bilo writes massive missive' usual cleanliness creative drive. [clicks knuckles, undoes one pyjama shirt button] I feel an arcadian stream of consciousness stumb;ing unto the dawn
[edit] 4:09 AM
does anyone know anything about this Icarus character? sounds like a rum sort to me with his promises of Emily (oh Emily) Dick'ers' relative's related whatnot. hmmm. Wonder what her brothers' dressing table was like?
[edit] 4:17 AM
so if he said jump off a cliff woul...oh I see. never mind, chin up mate, its all different these days. Ryan Air and such.
[edit] 4:28 AM
mm I read Love in the time of Cholera, is it Marquez? How old are you Icarus? 19? I am olding these days, alas the magic realism in my bones sheds light like sticks of chipwood its very body. all these cycles, all these starts.... page one.. the very end
[edit] 4:35 AM
yeah happy birthday Ick
[edit] 4:38 AM
halleluja!
[edit] 4:52 AM
nightnight Abi x
[edit] 5:13 AM
tell me again im sorry i forget....
[edit] 5:19 AM
about the camera....Eek?
[edit] 5:33 AM
i'll get it to you in a bit... must sleep awhile. night all...
[edit] December 10 2007, 2:58 AM
shambles plot up [86]
so meself Mickle and Adam are at Albion Towers, awaiting Drewsive (as ever). Has been a pleasant weekend. Astile and his sister are sleeping upstairs and the cats are scrapping. We are rehearsing and moaning about managerial tactics. New tunes aplenty.. nameless but with class. alright!
[edit] 3:04 AM
wotitfer?
[edit] 3:05 AM
oh yeah I see.. very fetching
[edit] January 11 2008
on the roadle
greetings from the second floor of hotel Barcainternational.. and a fine view from the balcony of the back-end of washing-line vine tangle jungle web tenements here in the divine city of , aya, Barcelona, sherlocke. Two gigs into the ‘hang out the washing on the siegfriedline tour’ 2008. Lisbon never fails to catch the eye, the heart, and a shindig saw through the night. themed hotel, all rooms subject to a subject of hollywood fame - I was in the ‘stanley kubrick room’ much the same as mik’s ‘Hitchcock’ and Sally’s ‘stevemqueen’ cept different posters really.. cheap enough though. giggle all the way..saw some old friends and of course was inclined to drink coffee afore the flight to madrid in a 15th century coffee house with a dickinson obsessed confidente, chrmed my dear. Madrid - where my elder sister lives - kicked of, although i avoided the mayhem and was in bed by 3 watching watershipdown and working on some new songs. Been playing a few new ones in the set, and a real corker as yet untitled may make her society debut tonight. A wonderful afternoon in Barcelona, headed for the trinket market.. acres of tat./ bought some gifts for the gang and a fine strange crucifix with Jesus hammered up as per §, but also a skull and crossbones towards the foot of the cross. Its old too. hmm. oddle
[edit] 8:52 PM
roadle 2: jitters less dignifyed [sp] than torments [87]
pre-show descent into some lawless cutthroat province of the soul. Always was it thus. time was when i couldn't even get to the venue for throwing myself at moving buses, although these days it is contained. Held in mid-throat vacuum, the cold pitiless -gulp - pitiful .
Void, Wrench, ugh how the ecstacies and roars of rapture are reversed, ridiculed by this slow death that cuts me up shoves me up the wall lust of the libertines stylee. And no escaping it, and nothing alters it, and nothing can numb it or brighten it up. jawclench horor show under your heartbeats spell [cue circus music..]
bathroom mostly dry , though the rain soaks the city now.
Right, enough of this dull pattering of wrinkled soaked fingers on the dirty keys...I'm off to the gig. Bonjour tritesse..
[edit] February 8 2008, 12:51 PM
about tonight [88]
know nothing about this.. someone is upto fuckery and no mistake officer.. just spoke to thirst's management and it didn't come from them either. Tonight the shambles are off to meet Ray Davies [gasps].. may nip to Brixton and see whats happenning but no promises so dont go on my behalf.. new labour?> [chucks]
[edit] May 19 2008, 4:57 am
emergency [89]
can anyone drive me to glasgow.. must leave from wilsthie arra in next half an hour.. peter x
[edit] 5:07 a.m.
The Scrubs still have not returned my passport and so airports are out. Was hoping to have had it back today. Absolute pisstake.
[edit] 5:21 a.m.
oh dear it's false 'tash and sunglasses and jump start the jag time again..... mums the word, and bonne chance. To the barra's!
[edit] Jun 08 2008, 1:19 am
Fraulein Damnation [90]
guten morgan zum alles.. wotcha French Dog Blues and how is thy sunday?
[edit] 1:44 am
The gig was a good'un, standard set but it was a mental crowd for 2 in the morning. ended up going on after the verve. not that i'm one for name dropping but to the strains of 'the drugs don't work' i got batterred at pool by Metallica's bus driver in the backstage bit [all candles in little glitter lanterns ('ve need zem tomorrow' said the security bloke as i tried to bag a load of them for the albionRooms) and palm tres and that) my hotel room looks out over beautiful Koblenz.. a wide busy river and medaeval bridges and gothic churches and cobbled streets.
[edit] 3:07 am
youtube magregor. everyone's either asleep or drenched in the weirdist rituals ie the'd say sweating: i feel a bit weird. The 'normal ' behaviour or rather, how things are amongst the players of the function of what you call hotels waking up . but when is slept and one is leapt perspire, opiate substitues: religion, jesus christ imagine the just now i went to try and fck, this lad come back from apothecary bargain 2000 10ml Valeries you kow? it never occurred to me butthats why she - suddenly type of life fuck'd free, free freewhen the husband of the white haired lady seeming to remember blocking a door so the woman he wed forty years ago half frozen in excitement in a massive pair of old school how's your fathers..
(Last edited by heavyhorse on Sun Jun 08, 2008 3:20 am, edited 2 times in total.)
[edit] Jun 23 2008, 7:42 am
Re: Peter's dummy on his roof [91]
er, excuse me, this bloody Mannequin has f'kall to do with me, it's entirely the property and responsibility of a housemate of mine. I've taken the fucker down twice already and to no avail - the said housemate is not to be stopped. The thing is terrifying on dark nights when you forget he's there and suddenly walk past the room and seee the looming silhouette of the monster through the balcony window. If you want I'll take some footage and show you on youtube? yeah, maybe not...ok, i was only asking
[edit] January 5 2009, 6:40 pm
The green baize of the pool table like Wembley on cup final day. Well, at half-time anyway...
It's just me and the shadows on the CCTV system.
New Year's resolutions abound. I'm the first here for tonight's gig. Finger nail's clean and down to 17 fags a day. 7 people showed up to the 'disco' saturday so the credit crunch hits hard at heavy horse and economizing means i'm on dust-pan and brush duty as the city-workers swap shifts on the city stage with the pimps, pushers, puta's and opera goers.
Commercial Rd.. Saree shop shutters slam shut and sirens sing as a squad car swoops down crow-like to Bow. Over by the river the lights are on inside the tower. Beef-eaters probably tucking into stew or something.
[edit] 6:46 pm
2 knocks and one long buzz. for entry that is..not my summing up of 2008. all the best for the season by the way etc
[edit] August 28 2009, 8:06 pm
Left something in Moscow [92]
I don't know. You give up drugs and walk headlong into a bar..an iron bar by the size of the lumplesplitskin on my bonce.
Apologies to anyone who had to witness me in tru old-school lashed-up and minging mode last night at the whatsit club in Moscow.. before it all goes blank (somewhere around wonderwall i'd wager] [dear god..] I do recall having a fine old time of it. Unusually, i wasn't even subject to my pre-gig wall-climbing and so all in all, despite myself, I had a blinding if breif little jaunt to Russia.
Anyway, I was asked recently to write an article for a certain periodical about songs that influenced me in various ways. In case they edit it to fuckery I'm whacking it out on here for your amusement..
A Soldier's Son, by Peter Doherty
Funny thing about army barracks is.. the shit jokes. Contradictory, I know. Likewise, I remember hearing a lot of army related songs in those formative years. Mostly about Hitler's genitalia or lack of, the QM's stores and one perennial favourite, that went something along the lines of "left, right, left, right, left" , which I could hear belting out from the parade square even as I put on my first ever single purchase - Jive Bunny and The Master Mixers, 'Thats What I Like'. Hell seeing days. Your second to last enclaves of upwardly mobile underclass muttering disciplined salute-signalled obedience to the very last enclaves of bona fide [t]officer class ooray'Enries. The first song that made me smile behind the barbed wire and the blood pool from where one 'army brat summer activity' javelin instructor had carelessly thrust his spike through a pal of mine's head was Dereck B's 'Get Down'. It was the eighties, I was eight and the bloody tape recorder ate my tape, but not before I'd sat agog many an hour, listening repetitively to the premiere UK eighties hit pop artistes, Dereck B and Easy Q. They spoke of a long far off place called East London. The furthest east I'd been was Tottenham Court Road. They spoke of "Cuts that rumble like earthquakes", "Sticking sawn-offs up the noses of guards" and more intriguingly to my once innocent ears, some female acquaintance who had "two big things like basket balls and down below was like Niagra Falls". The tape died, but a vision was born. . To the bemusement and amusement of my school friends and probably my family, the twelve year old junkie rocker in training was an obsessive listener to The Chas and Dave Christmas Jamboree 12"s. These treasures were the North London duo's mass medleys of old school music hall songs. And I'm talking about songs, a lot of which had never even been recorded, some dating back to the Virginia Plantations. They were lyrical, often melancholy, littered with single entendres and always melodic in extremis. Even as my eyes were being drawn to the volumes of war poetry in a downstairs closet, I was mesmerised by 'Harry Was a Champion', 'A Big Fat Fly Flew by Fat Flo's Flat', 'When you go Down 'oppin' ', 'Down the Road There was a Bloomin' Riot' and countless ditties about old bald heads, sticks of celery, Chinese laundries and one that later partly popped up as a crucial verse in a popular Libertines song:
"the other night I goes to a ball and they calls me Cinderella/ and upon my coat I wears a button hole and they calls me a tidy fella/ next to me comes old Mother Brown, pulling up her railway socks/ says to me come and have another dance, cos its ain't quite twelve o'clock/ so off we go, round and round, but there's gonna be some trouble I know/ cos I got no buttons on me trousers/ and me pins ain't none too strong/ hurry up Mrs Brown I can feel it coming down, and it won't take none too long".
Somewhere between the pillows and the skies, amidst the stark satanic thrills of adolescent whimsy, there's a second hand record shop. Lets say its in Nuneaton. Lets imagine a wonky fringed fifteen year old striding purposefully towards it with his paper round money in his hand. He carried the money openly to make the record shop owner think he was going to buy stuff, but the week before he'd seen a strange apparition, a call to arms even: some right bramah had paraded out of the same shop, wearing a t-shirt saying 'Shoplifters of the world unite'. Later that day the earth collided with the sun, all the clocks started going backwards, even though they were melted and I didn't watch that evening's edition of Noel's House Party. I sat in a room bedecked with QPR memorabilia and stolen library books, a chewed up Derek B tape and a periscope from an Iraqi tank the old man had brought back from the Gulf... and my life changed forever. 'I started something I couldn't finish' cranked into life and something divine occurred to me. Within six months I had officially taken up residence inside Smiths songs 'Well I Wonder', 'Jeanne', 'Real Around the Fountain', 'Nowhere Fast'. I think 'The boy with the thorn in his side' made me want to pick up the guitar. 'This Charming Man' quickly made me put it down again and then 'Rubber Ring' left me in two minds.
Moving on... Its summer 1997, I'm dossing at my Nan's flat London NW2 working at Willesden Green cemetery. By now I'm in possession of Benny, a crappy old Spanish guitar that is causing serious rifts in the domestic politics of Nanna Doll's gaff. My cousin Lee Cassidy had a flat in an opposite block. I sat gobsmacked in his kitchen before work one morning as he told me that he'd never listened to guitar music just dance, rave, jungle etc. "Hang on though Pete, hold tight...." and 'Fools Gold' by the Stone Roses blasted out across the room. Bloody Hell, what the fuck is this? I looked at my cousin and then at my feet. Oh, this must be dancing.
One saturday morning, that summer it was my day off and I wasn't going to sit around at Nanna's being told to shut that bloody row up. I go up West with my little guitar, I play 'Meet me on the Corner' by Lindisfarne. I get moved on. I mooch awhile, I do my hair in lots of shop windows, the quiff just won't stick, so what can you do? You go home with your latest 'purchases', one of which is a walkman that some careless lad left on a pub bench. On his blind spot. You come out of Kilburn tube because the barriers are being mended, take the 16 up Shoot-up Hill, all the way along to the trading estates where Children's World was and you fancy a walk, so you cut through Gladstone Park. There's an old rusting metal railway bridge and daubed upon it for as long as I can remember are the words Dollis Hill Mods with Mods crossed out and replaced with the word Skins and then Skins crossed out again and replaced with the word Mods. You have a look at the walkman. Quite flash. You put it on, asteroids destroy Neasden and all the bells in all the churches in London clang like no one's business. I bounce home, trying to walk like a black kid as 'Marcus Garvey' by The Skatalites blows my tiny mind. '007' by Desmond Decker 'Rudy a message to you' by Dandy Livingstone... I felt like Saint Peter just as I passed the junction of Dollis Hill Lane and Damascus Close.
Peabody Cottages, Bruce Grove, sometime in 2001. The rain was playing havoc with my attempts to finish my novel. What with the fact that my bedroom roof had just caved in. Aside from that, my girlfriend had ended another vicious row by running down Tottenham High Road in her neglige. The car that I'd bought off a young Dole-scrounging, heroin-addicted would-be superstar Jonny Borrell didn't fancy the trip (what with it being two hundred and seventy-five quids worth of absolute shite) and I stood shaking awhile, the radio alarm came on and a sports reporter told me that QPR had just lost at home in front of a record low crowd. The phone rang, my jobseekers allowance key worker was calling to remind me I needed to come in today as they had concluded their investigations into my false claims and I was to be signed off and issued with a demand to repay two years worth of benefit fraud. The phone rang again. It was B.T. They were cutting the line. I stubbed my toe on the sideboard and stumbled down the stairs, cracking my head on the record player and spinning it into life. 'Good Morning Heartache' sang Billy Holiday at slightly the wrong speed. I made two promises to myself. I'm gonna have that chord progression one day, just see if I don't. And I'm never buying a used car off Jonny Borrell again.
Times and dates are now a little vague, I really could bang on all day about the whens, the wheres and the whyfores of Immortal Technique's 'Fuck You', Arthur Lee and Love's 'Your Friend and Mine', 'I Wish' by Mick Whitnall, Wolfman's 'For Lovers', the theme tunes to Steptoe and Son, Fools and Horses, Rising Damp and Hancock's Half Hour, Donna Summer's 'Love to Love You Baby', 'Chaos in the Courtroom' by The Bandits, 'The Modern Age' by The Strokes, but instead I'm putting my flag in the ground and its staying there forever. If this article should get edited, think only this of me; there is a corner of some skanky Victorian gaol cell, that is forever Billy Bilo's and it was there that I squashed my ear up against the crack in a door and listened to 'Free as a Bird' by The Beatles coming out of the Screw's transistor radio from the landing below.
"Turn it up Guv" I begged. He turned it down.
"Whats that Doherty?"
"Can you turn the radio up please Guv".
"Listen to him, will ya, he thinks he at the Camden Palace, this is Scrubs mate".
"It's called Koko's now you fat northern cunt" I mutterred under my breath. -
"No" came a voice from the next cell "its definitely Scrubs".
In fairness, the prison guard in question did turn the radio back up, but the song was ending, being followed on the Capital Gold playlist by 'Cool for Cats' by Squeeze. Well, you can't lose them all can you?
[edit] Aug 31, 2009 10:24 am
Coco Neon [93]
Deepest sympathies from the heart and sincerest condolences to the family and many close friends of this clearly cherished soul. I feel somewhat patronizing suggesting this but don't know how else to mark my personal feelings. Tomorrow night at The Torriano I'm putting together another 'acoustic caberet' and suggest that we make the night a celebration / memorial for our lost friend.... thoughts please
[edit] 11:25 am
It's not really near a tube. I supppse Kentish Town (northern line) is an 8 minute walk or so....It's on Torriano Avenue which sprouts off Camden Road where York Way ends..
[edit] Sep 01, 2009 4:22 am
coz' thesummer'sallgone, lalalala-o the dawn begins to crack [94]
last night's setlist had no new songs in it, no Libertines reunions and no alternate tuning. It had lot's of improvised doodling, cable-twisting electric shocks etc, half-hearted efforts at passion and many aborted songs. The only thing of note was the incredible 6 or 7 full-throated sing a longs from much of the crowd. Off the top of my head I think the tunes included were: Last of the English Roses, Salome, What a waster, Lost art of murder, Albion, Deathonthestairs, GoldenBrown, Goodolddays, Vertigo, Broken love song, For Lovers (sung by Wolfie] France, Dontlookbackintothesun, back fromthedead, BreckRdlover, Bucketshop, You'remyWaterloo, DillyBoys, Lastpostonthebugle, Gangofgin (kind of eventually, forgot how weird the lyrics are to sing these days] Cyclops, MyDarlingClementine, Throughthelookingglass, Merrygoround, RadioAmerica, BaddiesBoogie, Unbilotitled, Can'tstandmenow, songstheyneverplayontheradio, tinker'sdaughter, Jeanne, musicwhenthelightsgoout...can't remember what else
Oft times I irritate myself with the banal cycle of terrors and tremors and general spine-arching spasms of blank fury that ritually haunt intimate live performances such as last minute 126 gatherings. I have just got home from the gig which as always turned into a winner-stays-on round the pool table disco. A handful of stalwarts in the Limehouse morning sun, wondering where the night went, where their friends went and what becomes of the broken-hearted. By then I've usually caught up with a few old mates and had a few shandies and now yawning in the glorious Savernake forest sunshine Wiltshire and the world seem far from bleak.. but during last night's set I felt a distinct panic in the soul that disturbed me greatly. There were dark mutterings from a section of the maybe 25-strong crowd. My interpretations of the exact words were too horrific to be anything other than paranoid ideas on my part.. until I distinctly heard the tall kid in eye-liner and pretty face say 'I'll shit on his head'.. with that I stuck a pool cue in his throat and he flew backwards off his stool. Not one person commented on it and he himself didn't seem surprised. All night his persistent sarcasm, arrogant diva-like posturing in his thread-perfect coolerthanthou get-up and cruel asides were demoralizing me and although I played a fair few songs for nearly two hours I felt useless, unoriginal and wondered what I was doing there at all when in reality the idea is to whack out loads of tunes for people who want to hear them live. Why would anyone bother to turn up and then clearly not have any enjoyment from the situation, and more to the point, create a knowingly twisted atmosphere.
I must sound like such a moaning freak but really i feel like I need to share this with someone who might know what I'm on about.Mostly I lead quite a solitary life, peppered with random bursts of intense social carnage. Reently I have fallen in love and for the first time in ages am enjoying one persons company and affection. She's lovely. But that's one world, away from the rigours and decadant manouvres of bumming about east-London with a geetar and a pipe. I wouldn't even discuss it with her because she hates drugs, drink, punch-ups, camera phones, and hardly speaks English anyway....basically I feel like a bully for knocking that arrogant prick off his perch and actually he's the bully for his heartless jibbering. I'm not saying don't criticize or complain if i'm shit or late, but don't be rude or you deserve a bunch of fives up the hooter.
I feel much better now. Had a mental night. Since the curfew slackened London has been reminding me why i love her so, am lost in her so... delerium and embankment gardens. Hackney hideouts and forgotton pathways into unto arcady and again Arcadia. Wandering the wards. Potting five in a row. Kissing on the kerb. Trashy stalls and flashy geezers. rudegirls and posh-tramps.
[edit] Sep 01, 2009 5:20 am
Coco Neon ...calling all the community, all who knew Jenn [95]
so... what would have been CocoNeon's fantasy set-list (including covers, animal impersonations and mime routines)?
[edit] Sep 01, 2009 10:59 am
Tonight tonight.... [96]
so Jenn if you're reading..we've got a hell of a line up for you tonight, including a home-debut from 'Woodstock' who will be serving your drinks and banging out some tunes and looking quite fit. Also, Ficek 'imself if he's done with the nappies. Pete r Doherty and hopefully Drewsive and Mik McMichaelnall. Ben Bailey and Daisy Pagan. A fine young Italian songstress called Anton..who's just walked in to soundcheck. The Bruised Beauties... all bruised and beautiful... I'm speaking to Joe Fox's manager at the moment, she's drying her hair and reckons he's playing. I do hope so. Jackson Scott'll be rolling up and coming to play too... more to come...
[edit] Fri Oct 30, 2009 7:12 am
by thee used disused power sta-tion, the Batter'd sea [97]
I know he's got his faults, but when he'soff the wesleysnipe he's a warrior and he's a don. I first met him on the landing in Pentonville and he didn't stop singing . Terrifying.
It's on for the 6th..get yer tickets now cause we'll be
showcasing shitloads ofnew songs... and it onlyholds about as much as a Brentford away mob.
P.D
[edit] 7:16 am
how much?
[edit] 7:17 am
how much how much?
[edit] 7:21 am
£30 sobs... eh, blimey, you do you know he's just had his 9th kid. It's kinda of Bio-Jah-nows-we-need- a knees up. I guarantee it'll be the best you've ever seen. What more can I say. I'm trying to help a mate but trust me i'll pull out all the stops. Barat? Ballerina's? Free demoof the new bumfest masterpieces....? c'mon
[edit] 7:22 am
No, the shitcasloaders will be the shambles who have been rehearsing at least two days a aweek
[edit] 7:27 am
twenty quid... i don't why i bother sometimes. this is gonna be a belter. As for my health, thanks for asking, I'm 2 days backfrom another implant and a little fucked if at least clean for another few months. ow.
[edit] 7:37 am
I said Barat not bleeding Bar-aah..
[edit] 7:43 am
ok I'm on it....
one love, sugar spun sister etc's
[edit] 9:19 am
I feel peculiar, who fancies an old school no holds barred bilo forum heart spew?
[edit] Fri Oct 30, 2009 9:55 am
lapsed heathen in junk sick cell.. and other puns on a n in [98]
What is all this play rumy formoney and internet dating blurbs.Eek must be raking it in. Which reminds me. Adrian's sweet so stop blocking his posts or it'll all go off. the liquid kosh had me roaming portugese wards, getting into bed delerious with 90yr old women. Thinking I was an ice skater. marvelling at the way i could sleep upsidedown in the cupboard. Then they bang it in stitch you up and here i am.
sometimes you need to find a song to get you going, spark you up, make you cry. I'm trying. I need something so bad there'snothing left but st ettienne and the libershivershambles. suggestions for tear jerkers:
![[1]](http://www.albionarks.com/gallery/index.php/Books%20of%20Albion/Poems%20Question/02.jpg?action=big&size=original&fromthumbnail=true){kind=link}
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![[6]](http://i211.photobucket.com/albums/bb253/EvilCarl/mojo2.jpg){kind=link}
![[7]](http://www.albionarks.com/gallery/index.php/Books%20of%20Albion/Poems%20Question/08.jpg?action=big&size=original){kind=link}
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