Things I've been up to lately

 I've been feeling lately as if I haven't actually been doing much, so I decided to do this post as a way of disagreeing with my impostor syndrome about that, as much as anything. Most obviously, as you'll see above, I recorded a version of 'We know where the huntsman lives' for my YouTube channel, which you can check out above. I've also been faffing about visually, so I thought I'd document that, starting with the thumbnail image for the above video:

I seem to be using a lot of stuff from The Invisibles for image manipulation purposes lately; make of that what you will. You may recognise Miss Dwyer's sunglasses in this picture of Shadow Chancellor and plagiarist Rachel Reeves:

I've also been mocking Elon Musk, because it is fun and very easy to do: 

Another highly mockable individual is one Vincent Kennedy McMahon, particularly with the revelation this week that he hated UK crowds: 

Sometimes I just get something stuck in my head and have to make it: 

And sometimes the Guardian drops something in your lap that's so obvious you can't not do it: 

While we're on the subject of the Carbonara Kid, I was very pleased to hear a classic public safety film has been revived to warn kids of this new danger (EWOTRIAP):

I also see that Rishi Sunak has rebranded the Tory logo to better appeal to his core vote: 

Also, in terms of my own photography, I've gotten quite interested in photographing real things that look like static or interference patterns. These will probably wind up being used in future shops or video backgrounds, I imagine: 

There's a bunch of other stuff that's been going on, but is more difficult to include in a quick post like this - synth experiments, voluntary work, doing stuff at demos...expect to see more stuff about all of these things on here soon; after a little time off after finishing up Albian Dreams, I'm planning to get back into the habit of updating here more frequently. And as always, of course, if you like what I'm doing then feel free to show your appreciation by tipping me via my ko-fi page; October has been a pretty rough month for me due to an unexpected illness and some surprise bills (don't you just love those?), so any tips are super-appreciated. 

Moment

I closed my eyes

at the flash in the sky

and hoped to be killed by the blast wave

We know where the Huntsman lives

 

We know about the author 
who likes getting off on torture
writing doorstops of smug thuggery 
to settle petty scores;

we know about her charity

enabling depravity 

from back alleys in Bucharest

to Port-au-Prince’s shores; 

we see the politicians

wink and make insinuations

to ensure your misdirection 

as, magicians of suspicion,

they hide the hand that disappears

their colleagues’ allegations;

the columnists who polish up 

once-tarnished reputations,

dressing up facilitation 

as rehabilitation, 

as they cutely euphemise

their grooming 

as ‘home-schooling’, 

call their trafficking ‘adoption’

and expect us to be fooled. 

But we see through

their find-the-lady hand-jive

and their prestidigitation.

We’re wise to their forces

and we know the fucking score.

We know where the lady is,

and we know who the groomers are,

and we know where the Huntsman lives

and we refuse to be prey anymore:

We know where the Huntsman lives. 

We’re breaking down his door.