This is a serious message to everyone watching my update right now - peace and love, peace and love! I want to tell you that after the 20th of October, NO MORE FAN MAIL is to be sent to ANY ADDRESS that you have. NOTHING WILL BE SIGNED after the 20th of October, if that's got a date on the envelope it's gonna be tossed. I've got too much to do. Uhh, peace and love, peace and love!

she loves you yeahhhh yeahhhh yeahhhhhh

I have returned. It is autumn. I don't fully understand Halloween but I have decided this is the year I engage with it properly and I want that noted. I watched three Halloween films in preparation. The first one had a man in a mask who walked slowly and killed people and I found the whole thing deeply tense and upsetting until I realised he was simply a man with a lot of unprocessed feelings and a poor support network. I felt for him. The second film had a demon in it that crawled out of a television and I turned it off because I didn't want to get ideas. The third one wasn't scary at all, it was just a family in America being sad at each other in a big house, but apparently it's a Halloween classic so I watched it twice and both times I cried, though I'm not entirely sure why, and I think that means it worked. I have been doing some additional research into what Halloween actually involves and I think I'm starting to piece it together. I have a theory. I'm not ready to share it yet but I will say that I have been making preparations and I feel quietly confident. I do however need to formally raise the following. It is the 19th of October. Halloween has not happened yet and already, ALREADY, my local supermarket has the Christmas display up. Fully erected. Tinsel. A mechanical Santa with one eye that moves slightly faster than the other. Quality Street tins stacked to the ceiling. I stood in front of it for a long time feeling something I can only describe as grief. We are being robbed. Robbed of the decay. The good, honest, seasonal rot that October promises and deserves. I want to feel the year dying beneath my feet before someone shoves a mince pie in my face. Is that so much to ask. Let Halloween be Halloween. Let November be bleak and grey and featureless as God intended. Christmas will arrive. It always arrives. It does not need a six week head start. I went to Greggs to process my feelings. The Chicken Roll was there. We have an understanding now, the Chicken Roll and I. I ordered it without speaking. The attendant knew. She always knows. As she passed me the bag, a small cascade of pastry crumbs fell and settled on the counter between us like the last golden leaves of October. She had already turned away. I want to be very clear that I had paid for that Chicken Roll in its entirety. Every flake. Every layer. The whole thing was mine by right of transaction and I will not apologise for ensuring I received full value for money. I leaned forward. I claimed what was mine. Slowly. With my eyes closed. The counter was cold. The crumbs were warm. It was, in its own way, a perfect metaphor for the season. The attendant asked me not to come back. I will be back on Thursday. Jessie, your website remains the only thing this October that has made me feel something I don't have the vocabulary for. Which is saying something because I have quite a good vocabulary. Most rights reserved. Most. Not all. I think about the rest every single day.

I love the site, genuinely amazing job! It runs incredibly well, and I love the design of the site, especially the braille artworks like the guest book! Keep using this site for stuff, especially your professional portfolio, it would be a fantastic tool to utilise.

straykitty.club? more like. more. like uhh

Saw some guy holding a Greggs Chicken Roll suspiciously close to his nether-regions today. His facial expression was like he was starstruck and in awe, but by the sign of a local Ladbrooks…

Jessie. You saw me. You were there. You watched me and you still haven’t taken the website down, which I can only interpret as encouragement. I want you to know that the sausage roll was load-bearing. It was the only thing keeping me anchored to this earth at that moment. I regret nothing. I have returned because I have not slept properly since my last entry and I feel the guestbook deserves to know why. It started again with the website. I was simply going to check if anything had been updated. Four hours later I was horizontal on my kitchen floor with the laptop balanced on my chest whispering “most rights reserved” at the ceiling like a man reciting scripture. But then — and I cannot stress how unprepared I was for this — I went to Greggs. Again. And this time I looked at the menu properly. Really looked at it. The Chicken Bake. The bold, unapologetic confidence of the Chicken Bake. Encased. Contained. Mysterious. It reminded me of the portfolio page and I had to grip the counter. The young woman behind the till asked if I was alright. I told her I was having a moment. She gave me a free steak bake and I think she understood. The Sausage Roll I have already discussed publicly and I stand by everything I implied. But nobody warned me about the Vegan Sausage Roll. Same shape. Different energy. A reinvention. A rebrand. Like discovering an artist has dropped a new EP and it’s somehow better than the last one and you have to sit in your car for twenty minutes before you’re fit to drive. The Caramel Latte. I ordered it on a whim. It came in a paper cup with a little cardboard sleeve and something about the whole transaction made me feel seen in a way that therapy has repeatedly failed to achieve. I held it in both hands like it was precious. It was precious. And then. The new Chicken Roll. I wasn’t ready. Nobody told me. It sat there in the heated cabinet with a quiet, devastating confidence and I felt my knees go. I bought one immediately. I will not describe in detail what passed between us in that moment, except to say that it was intense, it was brief, and I would strongly advise Greggs to print a warning on the packaging — something to the effect of: do not get too close while still hot, as prolonged direct contact may cause lasting damage that is entirely your own fault and Greggs accepts no liability. I speak from experience. I am fine. Parts of me are fine. Regarding Laceworks Live on the 22nd — I attended. I was the one in the third row in the pressed linen shirt, motionless, with the expression of a man watching his entire belief system restructure itself in real time. I did not dance. I was physically incapable of dancing. My legs had simply decided that stillness was the only appropriate response to what was happening. The man next to me asked if I was okay twice. I was not okay. I was better than okay. I was ruined in the best possible way. I have since been back to the Greggs on the way home from the venue. I don’t want to talk about what I ordered. It was a meal deal. It was perfect. I cried again but this time with considerably more dignity. Jessie, you have done something to me that I cannot undo and I am not seeking to. I will be following your career with the intensity of a man with nothing left to lose and a Nectar card. Most rights reserved. Most. I’m still thinking about the rest.

I saw this chap outside a Greggs the other day and saw this rather posh looking bloke sobbing while chomping down on a sausage roll. Rather sad really...

I stumbled onto this website at 2am with a cup of tea and left three hours later a changed and frankly overstimulated man. The homepage alone. The font choices. The casual ‘yo dawg’ delivered with the confidence of someone who absolutely knows what they’re doing to people. I had to set my tea down. The beats page was where things got out of hand. I won’t go into detail but my neighbours have filed a noise complaint and it wasn’t from the music. I made the mistake of reading the blog. I don’t know what she wrote. I couldn’t focus. My vision went a bit funny somewhere around the third paragraph. I’ve printed it out and framed it above my bed where a normal person would put a crucifix. ‘Last seen: Greggs prolly.’ I have never been more attracted to a sentence in my fifty-three years on this earth. I drove to Nottingham. I stood outside a Greggs. I don’t know what I was hoping for. I had a sausage roll and wept softly. I will be at Laceworks Live on the 22nd. I have ironed my good shirt. Jessie, if you’re reading this, I am not a threat, I am simply a man undone by your creative output and your cavalier attitude toward intellectual property rights. Most rights reserved. Most. Not all. I think about that a lot.

Tu es Los bolockos?

Why am I here?

My wife left me and now all I have is this website. Keep it up

Where the fuck am I?

i like trains

wow i love this website this is so awesome i will donate 100 pounds to your musicing