Hello LJ. How's tricks?
My name's Ben, I'm 28, living in the North of England. I've been on LJ a long time, but it's only in the last few years that I started writing three or four entries a week.
My journal's primary constituents is day to day diaries of occurring events, poetry, photos of places I've been to as I explore the countryside, and occasional opinion pieces. Sometimes I'll post music links, the odd album list at the end of the year as it's a big passion for me. I used to DJ, LJ. Was bloody awful, but it was a lovely way to meet people, and frequently, I would just blame my joint DJ slash housemate at the time, and told the unsuspecting punters that he'd been sent to me by the Make A Wish Foundation, his last dream somewhat unambitiously seemingly having always been to work in a tiny Welsh pub, misplaying world music and reggae records to a crowd of literally tens of people. Of course I'd add he was cruelly undercooked for the task at hand with a sympathetic tap on the shoulder light enough that he wouldn't decapitate me or take any interest in the rubbish I was talking behind his sleeping back.
The primary protagonists you'll encounter in my life's rich pageant are my Father; a 17 stone bear of a man rather fond of trains and surreptitiously acquired cream cakes, who believes perhaps quite accurately that other motorists, neigh the world at large, have somehow conspired against him, and that he is probably a reincarnated Russian Prince who has been held in captive poverty as punishment for beating some slave to death for speculatively suggesting quartz was an acceptable alternative to a mechanical watch at some sale or other.
Also guest starring will be my Mother; a professional astrologer who periodically drops by to borrow rent payments the same way as you might borrow a major organ or a shoplifter borrows shoes, and with one of her zany get rich quick schemes. My Grandmother; who takes a similarly dim view on human creations to the philosopher Hobbes, periodically shouting colourful obscenities at day time quiz shows in her native Italian whilst simultaneously complaining that nobody buys enough plants and washing powder any more due to 'airy fairy modern values,' my various friends, curmudgeonly members of the public who have thrilled me with their inappropriate behaviours, and whoever I meet in my next job following a recent redundancy.
Oh and dates if I can ever find who started those nefarious rumours about me during BBC's Chimp Week at university and erase their web forum & poster campaign. Doubtlessly some scamp I beat to some acting part or other or gazumped at the Somerfield's Self Service check out for fannying about. So it's all to play for!
I love writing, I'm doing a script for a friend's production company at present, sending one or two things off to publishers, and I love reading writing and other writers. Fairly easy going as to what I want from a friend. Like reading people's day to day lives and I'm keen to have fellow poets around the place too, but nothing wrong with photos memes and the like.
There will be the occasional bit of profanity and the occasional explicit reference in the poetry front, but I don't go cock-a-hoop with it I don't think. Although sometimes my Geordie friends just look at me all lugubriously, telling me how gangster rap has sullied some part of my innocence they previously thought untouchable back when I used to make muffin gift baskets for birthday presents. I am loathed to comment on their accusations and mundane musical affections, I'm just saving all the really viscous bile-filled rebukes for the book.
Here's a picture of me. It's a bit blurry, I suspect the camera was drunk. There are others on my journal, it's like the world's crappest game of Where's Waldo. Add away if you think we might hit it off. Or even if you don't, probably good practice to have hecklers so I can work on my witty retorts when I do poetry gigs in the rougher parts of London. I expect.