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I'm not at a comfortable enough point in my life, where I can attribute the regurgitation of my mind, a particular genre. All I've really done is impart mediocre grammar to brain vomit.

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I think I need to see the view from the other side... (Taken with Instagram at Newport Waterfront)

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Oh hello there, bitches... (Taken with Instagram at James Madison Building)

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Note: alcohol makes you forget you are sad (Taken with Instagram)

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Fam (Taken with Instagram at Terminal 3)

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A Liquid D'n'B mix I did for my mate Jim - also going to double up as a mixtape for any prospective promoters I wanna push up against in NYC.

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My Sister Paid Progressive Insurance to Defend Her Killer In Court

I’ve been sending out some impertinent tweets about Progressive Insurance lately, but I haven’t explained how they pissed me off. So I will do that here as succinctly as possible. There’s a general understanding that says, “insurance companies— oh they’re awful,” but since Progressive turned their shit hose on my late sister and my parents, I’ve learned some things that really surprised me.

I’ll try to cleave to the facts. On June 19, 2010, my sister was driving in Baltimore when her car was struck by another car and she was killed. The other driver had run a red light and hit my sister as she crossed the intersection on the green light.

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Today, in response to my blog post entitled “My Sister Paid Progressive Insurance to Defend Her Killer In Court,” Progressive released a statement saying that  ”Progressive did not serve as the attorney for the defendant” in my sister’s case. I am not a lawyer, but this is what I observed in the courtroom during my sister’s trial:

At the beginning of the trial on Monday, August 6th, an attorney identified himself as Jeffrey R. Moffat and stated that he worked for Progressive Advanced Insurance Company. He then sat next to the defendant. During the trial, both in and out of the courtroom, he conferred with the defendant. He gave an opening statement to the jury, in which he proposed the idea that the defendant should not be found negligent in the case. He cross-examined the plaintiff’s witnesses. On direct examination, he questioned all of the defense’s witnesses. He made objections on behalf of the defendant, and he was a party to the argument of all of the objections heard in the case. After all of the witnesses had been called, he stood before the jury and gave a closing argument, in which he argued that my sister was responsible for the accident that killed her, and that the jury should not decide that the defendant was negligent. 

I am comfortable characterizing this as a legal defense. 

I wrote about this case on my blog because I felt that, in the wake of my sister’s death, Progressive had sought out ways to meet their strict legal obligation while still disrespecting my sister’s memory and causing my family a world of hurt. Their statement disavowing their role in this case, a case in which their attorney stood before my sister’s jury and argued on behalf of her killer, is simply infuriating.

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A set of 4 prints. Ltd to an edition of 40. It’s loosely based on things that come in 4’s. Msg for a signed print.

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Meredith Vieira Doesn’t Know Who Tim Berners-Lee Is: The guy created the World Wide Web. From London Olympics Opening Ceremony, July 27, 2012.

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NBC FAIL

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Crap at Small Talk?

Well, here are some helpful starting points:

"How 'bout those even numbers?"

"Cucumber sandwiches again? Cool."

"I used to watch you sleep."

"Perhaps I should get a du-rag. Discuss."

"Did you know, if a wasp was the same size as a human being, it would collapse under the weight of its own futility?"

This entry is dedicated to Philip Wright, a dear dear friend - someone who thinks my drunken thoughts are worth scribbling onto blue post-it notes and crumpled notepads. Your journey has only just begun, buddy. See you on the other side.

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Mike's Birthday

“Burnley. Burnley. I said Burnley. Yes, Burnley. No, Burn. Ley. Burnley.”

Colder days had been experienced.

Shoes hummed to vile street works. Parrot-eyed commoners bent ugly away from my personage, while I slicked southwards. Knives were fired.

“Can I help you?”

My sharp elbows fired at all angles. This warren was kept. My piping and guiding thread was pushed eagerly into the demongate.

“Oh. I see. That way. The room at the back. No. There. THERE.”

Crushing my own fist-pummelled wretch, a river took me, but not before cruel willows brushed against shadows.

“Keep a fucking eye on him. Fuck’s sake.”

I would cry if it didn’t hurt.

A breath was underrated. However, welcome was the sunken light. Bubbles in the maze of mind, which I could follow – a palisade, I think it was. Pace incrementally larger, most things received a glove touch, ensuring faulted guidance was un-followed. Painted hornets voiced concern, while yesterday’s petrushkas noted on unmeshed paper. Blinkingly I took myself through.

Then.

Black was violence. Dark, without a tool to hand, guttural claws shot out and weeping was heard gruff.

‘Stop it!’ Just-no. NO! No! Wait!! Wait! Stop!! Someone turn on the light for God’s sake! I’m trying to calm-’

But there it was.

Rushed red, less important now, and un-claimable baggage. Irked faces and illsome.

The banner read ‘Surprise’. They said I shouldn’t have knives.

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So this is a design site run by this lass I met out in New York, that friends with another lass that I know that makes these shoes. Yeah, I know, I got talented friends. Fucking get over it. It's some lovely stuff yo.

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On Ma

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PRESS RELEASE For immediate release

CORPORATE GIANT APPLY PRESSURE TO INDEPENDENT LONDON ARTS COLLECTIVE

Automotive giant Jaguar / Land Rover has launched legal proceedings at the Trademarks Registry against the East London arts collective and bar, Jaguar Shoes. Filing in...

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An article on why Greece matters. And why Cameron is still a devil in disguise.

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The latest in Streamlined Hi-Intensity Technology

I've been getting sick lately. Not just coughy, spluttery sick. Not just bunged in the head sick. That kind of 'On-your-back-for-a-few-days-at-a-time' sick. The last few months have been strained.

Someone once said to me, 'If you're gonna flip burgers, be the best burger flipper you can be. Never hate your job.' I'm not sure he ever worked in the Civil Service, but that's not really the point. I've hit a bump in the road. The bump's travelled up my body and put approximately a stone onto my waistline.

However, I'm now going to America. For a year. Exciting, you say? Why yes, yes it is. It's also incredibly terrifying. I wanted to go for the energy. However, the last few months have highlighted a small chink in my armour - loneliness.

So, when all the material delights of life are gone, what's left? Family. Friends. And you can't even take those with you to the grave. Many have tried. I'm sure that's the real reason why Hindu wives used to jump on the pyre. Purely because everyone else sucked.

However, in my darkest hour, surrounded by empty drawers and sodden tissues, Skype proffered unto me a dear friend. Talking my self pity and neuroses away is a good thing. And suddenly I'm reminded of the fantastic things the will be coming my way. Saturday night nom noms at Marlowe & Sons. Sick gigs at Williamsburg Musichall. And all my sexy NYC friends.

There are always people. There is always someone around the corner who wants to put a smile on your face. Go out there. Sure, get your teeth knocked in on a night out, but there's always an equally drunk douche to help you sweep 'em up and get you back on the L train...or the Northern Line...or whatever...

I had loads of stuff about MMOs, tumblr porn and vast swathes of crack babies. But it's all quite dour. Chin up. Elbows sharp. Melua compas to the jaw. It'll all be okay.