12.54
Bredonborough.
Yes! the inbox is empty, despite the ongoing hold of Devil Bug, as of one minute ago. This follows e-frenzying during sickness that qualifies me for all manner of well-deserved awards, such as witlessness beyond the call of duty, how to destroy the quality of your life & remain in business and really why don’t you get your priorities prioritised quite a bit more better organized than that?
One of the subjects of recent e-discussion, with a respected correspondent, is a band of my personal & professional acquaintance. In response to one enquiry…
a key figure for XXX was their manager YYY whose real name was ZZZ. the largely unwritten element in the history of the period was the managers. nominally, they protect the artists from the worst of the industry’s exploitation. in practice, several of them were the industry’s worse form of exploitation.
Now, signing off before the wonder of empty gets stuffed.
18.05 A site inspection of World HQ. Old back door…
New back door…
Old kitchen…
New kitchen…
"We must be able to play in our sleep.
Because usually we do."
