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Born 1975 I now notice having abruptly developed as a young man of 32. And as a carpenter, or a sort of carpenter who takes care of building sets rather, you know: tv, photo shoots, movies, theatre and the works. Making places look like other places, or from another world, that's my job, I decorate.What I would like then, I would like to live part time, or all the time if I get older (which propably will happen, eventually, I think) in a small house layd of stone somewhere in green Great Britain with a little tree bearing fruit in the front yard maybe and offering me shade and a cozy spot to play my banjo a little. Dingeti-ringy-dang. In the evenings there would be fire in the fireplace and love songs like a million bucks playing. There I would write my book leisurely and half asleep fantasize about getting it published someday, somewhere, anywhere. I won't tell you what it's about though.But I play and I listen, to music that is. Guitar in my lap and all my records all over the place with great candles swerving I dwell and sing quietly while the world is slowly pacing to it's end. Actually I don't think there can be many ways better to spend your evenings than listening to those records mentioned with your best of friends, smoking and drinking wine and laughing your red asses off like baboons, rattling the bars on the lovely cage that you've willingly stepped into. At least that is what I think and what I have come across lately.Well, time for din-dins now.
