under another sun

Held responsible Up to London. Popped in to see my glamorous accountant and hand over things I'd signed. Then into the agency. A long and slightly trying day. But all well when I left at sevenish, the first neuropathic pain work coming to a raging climax today. Interestingly, Richard the visualiser was using a Tablet PC, allowing him to draw directly onto the screen of his computer. Really cool, and makes amending the image really fast, without having to start again like traditional visualisers. Slunk off leaving the ever suffering art director (in this case Sean) to see the work through. Feeling tired on the train home, half looking out at the occasional firework bursting in the sky while listening to Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk. It is a series of linked short stories, in a style the author calls Transgressive Fiction. The opening story, Guts , which I mentioned the other day is without exaggeration, and by some way, the single most disgusting thing I have ever read. Apparently pe...

Train time Back in the train limbo. Working on poems going up to London, looking afresh at my old Guernsey work for the project I am doing with Richard next year. Fortunately there are several improvements that leap out at me right away. The stuff I've done about Guernsey is surprisingly coherent over the years. Into the agency and working with Sean again, getting blood from a stone on the neuropathic pain brief. Nothing much to report, although we had a few laughs as we struggled with it. The train home, obsessionally playing the brick breaker game on my mobile phone, and listening to a disgusting audio book by Chuck Palahniuk called Haunted. First story featured a boy masturbating underwater, having his small intestines sucked out by the pool pump. I have rarely felt so revolted by anything. I can't decided if it was depraved or brilliant.