a writer who draws

Cry Troll Ain't No Poetry

Sat, 05 Jan 2013 20:48:35 GMT

My name is not Heironymous
Nor Anonymous or Ominous
Psuedonymous, Marlo Stanfield or Spartacus

My name is Laboured Contribution
Larry Opinions Inclusion
Institution, hub, station
Deleted, save the next generation
Same named (no relation)

A lesser spotted name is a bigger opportunity
Gagged name gives the foundation to a bully
Making a victim is so very poor
More important times, social enterpreur

How can Basil Brush
Be in two places at once
Panto Belfast and Plymouth

My name is Bradycneme Wannanosaurus
And as I told Slim Shady, I think they saw us
In the dreams of guinea pigs with VTOL jet-pack
We appeared as contestants on Blankety Blank

Thousands of readers yet it's no one's land
China was built with worker's hands
It takes more time to delete than to move forward
And I've got a toblerone the size of concorde

Dean Lawrence and the credits of The Tomorrow People
From the seventies not the nineties; that one was feeble
Roland Barthes is laughing in the bath
Don't put your cypher-links out in the trash

If you're going to be a bard
Be a lively Kingdom Brunel, Isambard
And remember the vital truth about being a gatekeeper,
He was a bad guy in Ghostbusters.

Had to disable comments on LJ because of the high amount of spam. Sorry. It's on Facebook if you'd like to comment.

TitanCon 2012

Fri, 05 Oct 2012 13:39:55 GMT

(I'd this all edited before I realised it was outside an lj-cut, and the html always backfires on me. Sorry.)

I was very honoured to be asked back to TitanCon this year, along with my colleagues Patrick Brown, PJ Holden and Irish writers Iain MacDonald, Peadar O’Guilin (peadarog), and select others. As I crossed Belfast for Culture Night it was the launch party at McHughs that brought me the most joy as Art Parkinson (young Rickon Stark) took some time out before his Saturday shoot to handle the crowds, and a bewildered Miltos Yeromelou (Syrio the sword tutor) stumbled on stage straight in from the airport. Chick tracts warning of the coming of Cthulu also circulated.

On the Saturday morning, I was ushered on stage with other far more recognised creatives, like the assembled Game of Thrones actors. Spence and David Crawford’s talk on screen-writing detailed the breaking of story into beats, a trick I used in my section on explaining how this translated to comix narrative snapshots. There were technical problems, and I spent a bit too much time on self-publishing and creator’s rights over the mechanics of creating comics at high-speeed. The small group of participant-creators involved in The Magnificent One Day Comic Book Factory was about eight, including Holden and Brown. Nevertheless, fun was had. The rules were bent to allow some extra time, and some more than a page, but it worked out so that I’d a finished print run of twelve page comics ready by 3pm.

I'll be posting comics by Dawn Lennox (Belfast) and Norma Thierfelder (in Germany) on IrishComicNews next week. In the meantime, you can also view Patrick Brown’s bit at his website and Paul J. Holden's contribution snapped for his Twitter feed.

I’d under-estimated not the workload, but my own mentalism in proposing such a task. It meant I spent much of the event alone, but could at times make out the panel discussions. There was a good one hosted by Peadar and involving storyboard artist Guest A (), Gues B (()m and storyboard artist Will Simpson (as himself). I took the twenty-five copies to the dealer’s room where the atmosphere was…church-like. The visitors were few and far between. Paddy Brown had one sale, and Holden had gone home.

Many conventions I’ve paid into (and attended for free) stick dealers in a room all by themselves. If dealers are bothering to pay –to-display in excess of an entrance charge, they’re financially supporting the event, so why bother cordoning them off? Noise during panels is often the answer given, but a vacancy of trade makes the experience for many an alone-in-a-crowd event. The simple answer would be to spread dealers out. Give them the choice of sitting in a room with panels and workshops – spell it out. Dealers can be part of an agreement that during panels and talks is quiet time, and dealers that want to express themselves more audibly are set up by bars and socialising areas. I cannot for the life of me wrap my head around con organisers who don’t adopt this policy. Socialist booksellers can manage this, so any-one can. And if there’s not enough room, combine, and work in shifts.

Ahem. Anyway when I got back from discovering Jesus I found Paddy had taken the comics around the very bored dealers, told them a sale would raise money for Action Cancer and gotten rid of most of them. Minus contributor freebies, 17 went out, raising £18 in twenty minutes and another £7 in the next twenty. If we do this at TitanCon next year, I’ll be negotiating with a copy-shop to achieve something with a print run of 100. (I hope to be running the Factory again at the University of Galway’s Comics West in February, and photocopiers are on hand)

The evening disco was my chance to get drunk, chat up a lady, and dance like a mentalist gentleman of grace and refinery. Unfortunately the DJ was at odds with the audience until the final half hour when it all clicked into place. Promethean Tarantino soundtracks sparkled us, side-splitting Wuthering Heights pirouettes sprang and total shamanic rituals became in our union.

The next day was the TitanCon Game of Thrones coach tour. Although only it’s second year, it now occupies a prestigious infamy. It reminded many of us that we should get out of the city more often, for we live in an incredibly beautiful place. Anyway, I took way too many photos and I’ve included a selection of them here so neither of us needs to spend more time than needs be on this. The day ended with a cracker bit of sword-fighting, which we were encouraged to gamble on to get first to the dinner table. Peadar was very smart, backing all four of the fighters, and I was even smarter because I let Peadar come up with the great idea, and copied him. Then we went and ate lots of meat and got our bellies full, drunk on wine and had some whores. Sorry, I meant Milky Ways. Thanks to Bruce, Ian, Phil, Doreen and everyone who showed up to make it a weekend to remember. I hope they’ll ask me back next year.

ps And while I'm on about Game of Thrones, The Simpsons did a take on it recently. I nearly peed.

I'm doing most of my blog posting on andy-luke.com nowadays, and there’s also my in-depth bit on Trinity’s Grant Morrison academic conference up on Irish Comic News.

Hold The Phones: The Collection, now on MyeBook

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 14:21:27 GMT

Follow the father of 911 Truth as he travels in time through American history, faces vaccination and innoculation, resists the attempts of big media to hypnotise his kids and join him. See him advertise water filters and gold seeds, fight enemies foreign and domestic. Witness his trip with David Icke, George Noory, Jim Tucker and Gerald Celente as they cross seven continents.

"I've read a few Hold The Phones online and found them agreeably demented; but with any inherent merit to the theories lost in a hilariously realised characterisation of the Jones fellow, it was difficult to view the strips as anything other than an absolute hoot of a reality sitcom."
- John Robbins

A bumper 44 pages of conspiracy action! Co-created by Andy Luke and Professor Octagon, with Geoffrey D. Wessel, Benjamin (benchilada) STone, Bisson and Sean Duffield.

Click on the text above for the online shop and preview. Print copies are also available by Paypalling me £4 & £1 for overseas postage. I may be doing a few more UK comix festivals this year if you'd prefer to wait.

Learn the truth!

s'NewsZoom

Thu, 01 Mar 2012 15:32:21 GMT

If you're not already aware I've been performing my first arts residency. The gallery, Belfast's Arts and Disability Forum, are showing my three 24 hour comics. This is the spot for 'In Time', which also sees a clever experiment were I create comics for six weeks without any sleep. Four weeks in and I can now camouflage myself against walls, turn my facial hair into a cat's plaything and phase through walls, such as gravity*.

I've been making news turn into comics - today's is mainly about the art cuts in Belfast, and I'm also happy with the Eastenders story.

NewsZoom runs Tuesdays and Thursdays and usually appears at newszoom.org and adf.ie

The Adf is based at 109-113 Royal Avenue in Belfast. It's opposite the Bank of Ireland that the Occupy group liberated. Gosh, that was fun. Do you know I built an aerial runway between the two? I made a safety parachute out of copies of the i.
I'll be there til March 15th if you can recommend it to anyone in the area.

*I'm fine really. Sleeping well. I just seem to have a latent drama queen busting out.

About to DJ on the radio NotSureIfSFW

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 14:36:31 GMT

I'll be on Catalyst Arts' internet radio station WAB FM from 3:30-5:00pm UK Time.

It's probably going to get a bit surreal.

WAB Fm community on Facebook

Listen Now Link

Catalyst arts website

The Invisible Artist? (2011)

Tue, 24 Jan 2012 14:05:30 GMT

The Invisible Artist from Northern Visions/NvTv on Vimeo.

Running time:35m

The comic booklet: once a mass market media form, it has all but disappeared from our shelves in the last twenty years. This film explores the hidden heritage of Belfast-centric cartooning that goes back centuries. More recently the vibrant underground publishing scene here, from The Belfast People's Comic (1977) to The Cattle Raid of Cooley (2011), has begun to attract attention from establishment arts bodies. We look at the stories of committed creators in this black sheep media and how they have informed our contemporary culture.

The Invisible Artist was written by myself and filmed and edited by Carl Boyle of Greater Belfast community group Northern Visions TV. Once a training ground for Channel 4 film-makers, NVTV is free-to-view, and hosts it's programmes on Channel 62/799.276MHz in Belfast, with a weekly and omnibus edition, before joining the archive screenings looped rotation. Shows also appear online in the months after airing. NVTV are hoping to raise their broadcasts to appear on Freeview next year. This film was originally screened on 7 November at 4:30pm, and again on 12th, at approximately 12:30.

I'm indebted to Carl Boyle for stepping in to cover the editing and production when my workload became too heavy to cope. The documentary was shot in a short space of time in early 2011 and captures the vibrancy of the time. In many ways, The Invisible Artist? is also the story of Davy Francis, a man at the crossroads of four decades of comics creation in Belfast. I'd like to thank Carl, Davy, Paddy Brown, PJ Holden (who called by at the last minute to help out), and everyone who gave their time to make this film happen.

Linked from NVTV on Vimeo http://vimeo.com/34794274

Tue, 27 Dec 2011 22:15:57 GMT

It was but a hurried parting in a common street, yet it was a sacred remembrance to these two common people. Utilitarian economists, skeletons of schoolmasters, Commissioners of Fact, genteel and used-up infidels, gabblers of many little dog's-eared creeds, the poor you will always have with you. Cultivate in them, while there is yet time, the utmost graces of the fantasies and affections, to adorn their lives so much in need of ornament or in the day of your triumph, when romance is utterly driven out of their souls, and they and a bare existence stand face to face, Reality will take a wolfish turn, and make an end of you.

- Dickens, Hard Times; Fading Away, pp.128

Merry Christmas

Sat, 24 Dec 2011 18:05:05 GMT

I've been damned lazy. Or disorganised. I put lazy before disorganised but I didn't mail any cards despite having loads. IF you don't move house in the next year it'll have saved me some time.
Anyhow, I'm in Nottingham with a friend and to take the weight off of tomorrow, tonight she's cooking Xmas Pizza:

A few of the other cards I made

And then there's this one.

Title:

Celebrity X-Factor Strictly Apprentice on Ice With Bobbins AND a Twitter Hashtag On

Kay Burley is holding a trident and eating a baby gorilla. Above the scarily long necks of The Apprentice jury is a pizza boomerang, which was one of the propositions put before the Dragon's Den hosts. I'm sure it was. More detail here or click on any for big size.

I also made cards out of my Panto Comics:

Jazz (autobot) as Robin Hood and His Merry Band Vs Westlife Zombie Army (2005)

AND

Louis Walsh concentration guard camp in Cinderella (2008) (With Dwight Schultz)

These cards went down well at the Arts and Disability Form Christmas exhibition. So well I've been asked to exhibit my 24 hour comics in February and do a part-time residency. It'll be my first solo exhibition, and the ADF people Chris and Leo are lovely and...We're still working out details but I'll be trying to make comics in Braille.

Not long now...

Tue, 20 Dec 2011 11:50:33 GMT

Doctor Who at Xmas I've been waaaAAaaaYy busy. Still posting out Absence. No cards. I made a few and this is one of them.

Galways Lovely Galway Is

Mon, 19 Dec 2011 18:56:45 GMT

Photos by Paul O'Mahony from this place on Fissbook

A fairly new comics convention is NUI (University) Galway's ComicsWest. Organised by one of the biggest societies on campus, the event had a trial run last year and a visit from Warren Ellis in Spring. The best way to get there is to let Paddy Brown drive you, through the natural monument range of Sligo. The stuff, as he said, you can't do justice to on film. The train journey can be quite pretty, but I've no info on planes. Warren Ellis cursed, but he does. Galway is a long oul run.

I'm going back, I say, surely as Roj Blake meant it. The event itself comprised a day of comics and zine makers selling, with some neat stuff like art zine For Flip's Sake, Kearney and Browne's relationship book, The Man With No Libido,. Derry's producers of Zombies Hi made maybe it's con debut, and they give me some good chat on distribution. There was also the obligatory appearance of work by master infilitrator, The Phil Barrett Machine. (He's in your room; now.)

Nice to see David McDonald there too, who I owe £3 for the Doomlord collection.

Colm McElligott (Committee Host), Conor Keville and John Smith at ComicsWest. Next, Some people are engrossed by our comics, some reckon it is the best cake anywhere in Galway. My long=suffering giant, Paddy Brown, mans the fort. And that might be Hibernia Comics' David McDonald to the right.

Tea and coffee was on tap, and more provided biscuits than mankind was meant to have. The Society's reading library was laid out on five tables surrounded by plenty of comfy chairs and lent a nice atmosphere to the occasion. Out back an animation suite had a few animations playing, and a live screening of The Invisible Artist, the film I wrote with Carl Boyle about forty years of Belfast comics creators. (It's not online until next year, but if you wish you can buy a copy now for £10-£15 from Northern Visions' website.) The video room had been the locale of the pre-event gathering, and the reminder that the 1960s Batman movie was actually....bloody awesome. Jim Carrey's Riddler written by Janet Scott Batchler? No. What weighs six ounces, sits in a tree and is very dangerous? A sparrow with a machine gun! Yes, of course. Frank Gorshin, Lorenzo Semple Jr., Bob Kane.

I hosted a piece on Writing for Comics in the art room upstairs. Followed with organiser David Burdon presenting a joyous piece on Science and the Superhero with some scrutiny on propaganda for good measure. Organisers confessed the event could have been better promoted, foot-fall was decent. Few hours dinner break didn't harm pm panel attendance noticeably. So Mike Carroll. Maura McHugh, Paddy Brown and I sat taking questions from Eoin Butler Thornton and possibly Leigh Ashmore. Very relaxed, very interesting, one of the better panels I've sat on. Sure, they all read 2000AD for girls while I preferred adult comics like Transformers, but we had the flow of a symphonic jazz quartet. Someone made cookies.

ComicsWest is set to be one of Ireland's great cons of the future. It'll quickly gain the reputation that 2d, Hi-Ex and Caption have for prog innovation and I'd posit the reason for this: the event is well laid out, the people are very pretty and the organisers work well as a team. Very well. The university supports them, the social chemistry is gold, and the attendees are involved. There is of course a post-script to this, but for all intents and purposes, my con report is done. We must go next year.

The social connect was evidenced by me the night before in the bar. I educated the kids on the greatest superhero fight ever: Batman Vs Green "One Punch" Lantern. Eoin and I bonded over shared love of The Wire, and as a guest they were in awe of, I got some free reign to slag off Battlestar Galactica. I'd elected to spend the night in Colm's free cot. An option that was curiously unavailable the following night after he disappeared from the pub and there might have been some girl involved I'm not sure for no verification documentary evidence is available but at least he got shome. Item A, the empty bottle of Southern Comfort, has now been removed. It was drank by myself, Leigh, Eoin and a third committee member as we spun yarns and shared declarations of mutual awesomeness in a house in the hills. Paddy managed to find me the next morning, and drive me to the emergency Breakfast Shop and all the way home.

So, plan out your trips to festivals be a lesson. Because they might just be too fantastic.

Photos by Paul O'Mahony from this place on Fissbook

10 Best TV Moments Of 2011 Which I Mostly Saw By Internet

Tue, 22 Nov 2011 05:34:48 GMT

Also courtesy of Paddy's TV.

1. Gatehouse will meet you off the tube.
2. That Lauren Socha headbutt.
3. Pretty sky, astronaut in the lake
4. Carl and The Deer
5. The God Complex
6. Danny DeVito as Dr. Mantis Toboggan sends Facebook fans of Paddy's Pub a Virus Video
7. Blink decapitation and fall, from ep. 1 of Game of Thrones (I gotta see em all)
8. Gaiman's Boxes
9. Making out in Plumbing accident, from ep. 1 of Forbydelsen (again, I gotta see more)
10. Butters and the unmasking of Dr. Janus ties with Daniel Hays, Monster Hunter.

With special mention to my own teevee film were Belfast cartoonist and multi-generational point-man Davy Francis, tells the tale about the time he lost his eye to cancer. Just by the way: that's how Davy rolls.

Also, Jeremy Kyle Envelope Headshot was a cute spark.

So how did Comics Barcamp go?

Wed, 07 Sep 2011 16:06:34 GMT

Lots to tell about one of the first ever Comics Barcamps. So I may as well start here.

Followingthenerd.com (FTN) professionally shot a few interviews with folk in the morning but had to leave for midday. (They're working on a TV pilot) Posters were still being assembled around them and breakfast being consumed, brought along by myself and Jennifer (Hanley) on a reduced-to-clear croissant hunt. The first session kicked off at 11:30 with Ciara Brennan, my new Absence liason at UnLtd. She and I spoke about the group: it's funding potential and the Southern equivalent. We gelled, and the piece gelled, clearing away my misgivings about UnLtd's case being treated as pie-in-the-sky.

I folllowed this up with a piece on Writer Pitching with visuals of huge spiderplans and mindmaps I made. There were jokes made about my bachelor status but more importantly I got people thinking, and Gar mentioned he'd like to try a proper personal project and raise the bar on his own work. There's an mp3 of this which I'm going to try to match with visuals of the pitch. The presentation led to an intense discussion of work patterns and passions (kind of the point), and we ran well over the allotted time.

Lunch next, and everyone who tried it enjoyed Richard and Aofie's spicy noodle soup and the Mediterranean bread I sourced. We'd plenty of food and drink to keep going and Marc (of FTN) brought a few bags of crisps.

Attendance numbers were low, fluctuating between 7-10 (with 14 overall), so much that we felt best to restrict ourself to one conference room. We didn't regroup to around 3pm. I didn't pick up much lunchtime chatter as I was helping with the food and trying to set up uStream.
Gareth Watson's session about portfolios on Wordpress was a bit tired I felt, as I knew half the group already used Wordpress. He knew his work, so the best parts were when people asked questions. He would move to an unseen slide and explain exactly what we wanted to know. He also offered us some free consultation. Session ran to nearly an hour, tighter time control next time.

Paddy Brown's piece, "Getting it out", was a carefully scripted manifesto rallying against my own proposal of comics and business, stating that it was the love of the art that could only be achieved by an amateur approach to give the finished work better results. He used historical examples, and examined modern routes such as FPI, co-ops and speciality bookshops. He did it so well I almost gave him a standing ovation. (Oh shyness) The version on the web is poor sound quality, but he may be up for reprinting it at some point. Gar and Deirdre had to catch their train to Dublin, so the session broke into informal discussion about the Black Panel and a Dublin co-op. In short, the former needs a serious re-tooling (I said) if it is to survive the year. Gar has a site in mind for the Dublin venture, and I made a point of saying they'd have to properly man-up before he undertook it. I mentioned he and Dee may like to perform a proper case study on London Underground Comics as an example of how to do it well.

The final piece was my own on digital distribution. I had fifteen minutes to deliver it but it's the sort of thing that could really benefit from knowledge pooling, so I may wheel it out again. Then to clearing up the venue and balancing an enormous vat of soup on my lap in the car home. Lazy takeaway at Paddys and the best Doctor Who I'd ever seen.

Richard said afterwards, "I really feel that I learned a lot today", and I think this summed up everyone's experiences. As the person with the least involvement in the comics business, he said, 'the industry seems like a really terrible place to work. Particularly in Belfast.' Richard probably knows me best, has been the closest to all the work I put in. The people who participated appreciated the sponsors and supporters, who were notable in facilitating hope for improvement. We learned plenty about how to run a barcamp and I'm quite certain we'll see a comics camp in London, Dublin and somewhere else in the next 9 months."

Original wiki for Comics Barcamp

My Comics Barcamp 2011 Set on Flickr

Comics Camp afternoon recordings on uStream (poor sound and slow loading)

If you'd like to interview me about the camp for a feature, running one yourself, or just curious, I'm happy to be contacted. Backing away from the screen for a few hours.

'Absence' seems to be doing ok

Fri, 17 Jun 2011 23:41:10 GMT

At least as well as a poor ranking Big 2 book. The website just hit 3,000 and 7,000 copies left my living room. I've no idea how well the app is doing. 500 downloads in the first week is the last figure I got from Oxicomics. According to this, it was ranked #103 in free app books.

UnLtd have certainly been overly pleased with the response. Last week, I got a mention in the hometown newspaper and a photo showcasing my freak-eye.

Isn't that cool?

Andy is available for paid work.

It is Maps spelt Backwards

Mon, 06 Jun 2011 17:04:27 GMT

I've been having a real problem with spam over the last year. I've tried setting the LJ to screen anon comments (no luck), and focussed on screening for entries which are specific targets. But I'm still getting screwed, and can't find the relevant help paths.

Your advice is appreciated. And if you have none, sure, you could always recommend me some anti-viagra.

Absence on Tour

Sun, 29 May 2011 20:16:24 GMT

It's hard to believe Absence launched 6 weeks ago. Downey and I arrived via an appearance on BBC Radio and met enthusiastic people. We drank coffee and beer and sat with Bronagh Lawson (of the wonderful Creative Change NI) and Meabh Cormacain, my liason with the funders, UnLtd. The plan was we'd speak for ten minutes in total, but the ladies went first and made me blush. Then Stephen's mammy heckled the pair of us to stand.

I've no photos but they'll likely show up. It was a busy great night and we managed to work in an interview with Peter McCaughan of Culture NI.

In the weeks that followed, Joe McStravick decided to make a film about my work on Absence, and Gran. When it sees the light of day, you'll be able to see Stephen's smart art studio and meet my parents, who brought a handful of photos of me as a babby.

I've also been in discussion about translating the book to Italian and Irish. Oxicomics are hoping to release versions for Android and something called iOs in June. I have 180 packs of 10-11 comics each for the Post Office when it re-opens. There's also the 100 packs for Libraries NI and this is were my week gets a little unusual.

Northern Ireland has 6 library headquarters, each HQ will taking a box for their region. This is a great help and as it turns out, vital, as the project is looking over-budget due to various hiccups in the costing. Now, on my unemployment benefits, I get 1/2 price travel on buses anywhere in the province. So I figured I'd spend the week travelling between these libraries; it works out marginally cheaper than sending the boxes by post. I get to see a bit of the province too, and maybe talk to some folk.

My improv at this stage is:

Wednesday: Ballymena and one of the following:
Thursday: Armagh, Belfast, Lisburn, (and Belfast Late Night Art & Comics Pub Meet)
Friday: Omagh and Derry (and the 2D Festival)

I think I'll be tweeting.

UPDATE: Stephen Downey will be signing copies of Slaughterman's Creed and Absence at Forbidden Planet Belfast on Saturday 11th June, between 1-3pm. And I'll be joining him.

Absencecomic.com Launch

Mon, 18 Apr 2011 22:42:53 GMT

The new edition of Absence: a comics about epilepsies launched today online. While I was in my bed sleeping off a rubix cube block of press release variants.

Co-creator Stephen Downey green-lit the switch, and Rich Johnston, bless his populist heart, gave the comic a top header over at BleedingCool.com

Stephen has done a fantastic job. Me too. We rock.

It's been an odd day. Signing on, I managed to impress the Jobcentre staff with free comics. I soothed the spirits of the Steps To Work advisor, who delayed the programme to allow me to distribute Absence properly.

I'm still waiting for the mainstream press to pick up on this. There have been a few signs the locals might respond. The comic has had only about half the hits of the original version which I drew in biro.

On the other hand, there have been a lot more re-tweets and personal messages expressing the importance of the comic, and this is very uplifting.

If you're based in or near Belfast, there's a launch party on Thursday at Catalyst Arts from 7:30pm. All are welcome.

COMICS YEAH

Sun, 17 Apr 2011 22:06:59 GMT

comics yeah
Originally uploaded by andyluke.

12th - 14th

Sun, 10 Apr 2011 03:33:58 GMT

And so that was it : my India Journal.

I took more photos than there were wedding guests. The muse is yelling for a payslip. So I content this conclusion with notes scribbled in my diary,

"Facebook Event : Varun Vs Zarren: Sobriety Challenge. Next Saturday"

I had a nice sitdown with Auntie and got lots of information on various UK societies offering free meditation-related course teaching. And an image, (though not the one below), which is placed in several areas around my home.

There was my rubbish attempt to organise a farewell meal, which looked to dissolve into a date with Zarren, and then came together clumsily. And my running out of cash to pay for it, which Varun didn't seem about to let me do anyhow.

I remember spending time with Gaurav over coffee, and on the morning I left, his office. As India's liason with Oxford Brookes, were we met, there was a huge desk, photos of him with key public staff. I sat in on a meet with a prospective Brookes student and felt offered to voice my opinion of studying there. Surprised, because Gaurav knows I can be a bit outspoken, but I reserved offering guidance in case my impartiality was a bit too impartial. After, we went to one of those Disney Pizza fast food venues, which I took quite a liking to.

I had to say goodbye to a lot of people - Hitesh and Zarren's families being the most felt. Rachit flew through traffic, in Indian road style - which means daring coupled with a laid-back timing that makes my anxious heart even more worried. And with only minutes to spare at the airport, the plane was delayed by an hour and a half.

An email arrived from John Robbins not long after home asking if I were alright? There were elements of this trip that concerned me. I'm not sure I'll ever be married, like I was living my wedding through Hitesh and Nupur's - I'll be 40 in a few years. Sad to live through someone else's experiences - but as sad goes, I rate this at the top. How I would love my wedding to be like this.

I'd made light promises to be out for Zarren and Rahul when each of them marry. It seems unlikely in light of job prospects. If they married each other, they would save guests money!
(Or, if either would like to marry me...)

Zarren and I had many heated conversations about vegetarianism and when I got home I thought I'd revisit the roots. This lasted two days. What did last, is my developing a range of cooking habits from focussing on a Vegetarian menu. I buy spices, and courgettes and dried yeast. I've been positively addicted to roti bread and red lentil daal. So, to end on, here are some of the things I've been cooking lately...

If friends or family would like all my images or videos from the trip, I can arrange a Dropbox Download spot. Please leave a comment.

11th

Sun, 10 Apr 2011 01:01:12 GMT

Zarren's sister, the birthday girl, invites me over for chi and says that I am cute. Auntie is telling me about two of me, one composed of light, both inside. I contend a few points (it is morning) (I remember more negatives than positives) The supreme-source-as-god-as-nature that we access cleaning out it's junk in the form of earthquakes? That we're in the iron age: surely some mistake? There are gold days, silver, bronze and iron days. I must remember that these are all just ideas in a system which (when used better) can be malleable. Rachit drives me to Pinjore and the Classic there, the site of my first beloved visit to India three years ago. I admire the build up of houses and still visible mountain range from the roof garden. Light browns, and darker into blue.

Some roti and chicken curry. Auntie and Zarren's sister spoiled me with roti and ghee (butter) at breakfast. The good spoiling, that my bland Ulster belly can cope with. It had been arranged that I'd spend the afternoon at Pinjore's Yadavindra Gardens. The cab there was a bike. I've been on the back of a bike thrice in my life. The first time we never left the garden gate. So without a helmet, I took the ten minute ride through track and rubble. There are less rules on Indian roads: the computer game racing simulation is practice for a real test whereas in Britain it's all line-marked and drama ranging from a quiet episode of High Road to Eastenders Blood & Death Scream Special arc. When the train passed, we sat with fifteen bikes on one side and five cars to the other: facing down DeathRace 200.

The pocket squirrels whistle like welterweights: when they stay still long enough to be pumping out a fair part of their mouth's air. Pinjore Gardens is very pretty: if Indians had filmed The Prisoner. Or for setting something in Asia, but saving on fare.

Album: Pinjore Gardens

Exiting to meet Rachit, a funfair and countless gift shops revealed. I tell him in the car, “look at that sun”, pointing up to the orange egg, “when you go to London next year, take that with you.”
After I got back, Varun, Ahmed and Sam took me out for a chi. Actually, they were getting haircuts and I have little hair. On hindsight, I think I was being taken out out of a sense of (misplaced) responsibility. On the drive back, they taught me how to say “butt-fuck monkey” in Hindi, not half as funny repeated fast as in English. (“Chodie” is fuck) I learned Sector 8, two over, is where monkeys swing free on cables on the front of shops. Perhaps I'll take a walk over tomorrow.

10th

Sat, 09 Apr 2011 20:12:38 GMT

Continued from here..

I blow off our appointment when I realise my phone is missing. It's at the internet centre. While there, I get a couple of hundred print outs done and then off-town to see Hitesh off. Rahul shows, and Samihl and we go to the currency exchange. Rahul and Hitu talk business so I tell them not to. Neither of them smoke a cigarette. I, on the other hand, had more than one. I usually do this using the same hand. Back at the house, they take ages before I can hug them goodbye. They are going to Nupur's parents home for two nights, a stopover in Chicago, then Florida. The photos I've taken are looked at and Rachit chats with me for a bit. Then off to update this journal and read Mark Gattis' Vesuvius Club. Two pre-packed veg sandwiches at 20 /- (28p) each from Swiss Pie. They include free ketchup sachets.

Modelling Hitesh's hoodie, and Sameer coaching me in facing the sun. Below, Rahul and the groom, in his last moments before honeymoon SLACK.

9th

Tue, 05 Apr 2011 22:13:26 GMT

Earlier entries with photos and vids, here.

Sometime in the after-day I'm in mucky jeans, trainers and a creased T-shirt breathing the musky air towards Java Daves were I fancy one of those compatible full Italian breakfasts. I think I may call in on Hitesh (Hitu) on the way and he's there in front. “Come”. So are all his relatives for casual ceremonies I don't feel dressed for.

In the front garden, Hitesh and Nupur sit cross-legged facing with towels draped over. A pink additive to the water in the saucer helps hide the coin which the two must use a hand to feel for to decide who is the master of the house. A further game-ceremony involves a coin, this pressed in the palm of the hand. The husband and wife must wrest it from one another. Yesterday afternoon incorporated the essence of British stag night as family ceremony. Now incorporating the point at the wedding disco where everyone's pissed off their trolley and fooling around. A further game involves the women of the family beating the brother-in-laws with large plants. It's all fun and games until.

Drinks and a meal, and six full cars of relatives depart at once, each hugged and kissed on the way. After ten minutes I go too. Java Daves does a balancer of a Darjeeling tea. I spy some cheap photocopying and get a bunch of mini-comics printed up. (12p to a £1, binding included) I invest in some sketch pens and a kangaroo stapler which will see me right.*

(*That's Indian smallpress compared with UK - 70 rs are approx £1)

Walking back, I meet Zarren who drives me to her place. Auntie tells me of thought and meditation, offering me a lecture which I think might be good.

(8b) The Main Ceremony

Wed, 23 Feb 2011 17:39:46 GMT

The vibrating throbbing agony of a stomach comes in heatwaves roaring rolls of teaching which condition me so much that I'm not going to muck around with food tonight. Zarren gets ready, time travelling as most women do: her car turns the corner and some state band is playing outside. Hitesh's family own every light in Chandigarh. Samihl is beckoning a drummer to dance his large size into their circle of surfboard stouts, Kung-Fu gigs, a Bill Bailey BBC festival gig, guitar hero, your favourite rock and dance it's on. Bejewelled Prince Hitesh is helped up onto a horse of his kingdom and tears show. A showy red umbrella is held for him. He can see these two hundred people in his driveway and street outside. Cars swerve and pause making adjustment, on the other side of the road more musicians and six or so uniformed males carrying bright bright lanterns.

AKM must be twice the size of Laguna. The Prince and Princess are in their Kingdom.

Take every event I've written of, put it in a field and you're getting close to THE SIZE. My good suit is spruced up with a long orange sash or scarf symbolising I'm from the groom's family. Isn't that nice? This flutter of collectivity: a few drinks with Gaurav and the others. Some Prada Horse Lady pushes aside the elder woman and I of queue for ten minutes and I stare down Prada Horse with snorting eyes for this disrespect of the elder. The chef serves both of us before, despite getting an earful of gurning. I like to think my pretty new and beautiful sash was responsible but that's just garnish – how pretty we all look! I smoke a ridiculed length vanilla cigar with a mouthpiece like those recorders at school.

Sugarfree gum and joining the King and Queen onstage, on camera, on giant plasma screens to present them with fine bone Irish saucers and a clock which is a robot that also holds envelopes in it's pincers.

Stuffed potatoes are doing the rounds: little cubes with maybe rice inside. The garnish tastes just like the jacket of a good Ulster baked tatty and I encourage everyone to have one.

Inside the banquet hall the table around which my pals are gathered is full so I elect for a quiet coffee on the side. Exiting, Hitesh spies me and punches me in the face from both sides when he learned that I had not eaten in the hall. Well, it's his wedding, I had to tell him. He hurls me at Varun. Both kick me until Varun gets me in a wedgie. My underpants to the middle of my spine, I'm pulled to the buffet, rope and alligator clips holding my mouth to temple and force-fed a plate. Varun looks set to move when I superglue him to the seat, telling him he can have a needle and thread when I'm done. He doesn't put quite so much effort into offering me dessert.

The ceremony with the priest is held between four pillars. It's difficult to see, spoken too low to hear. Held in quite a different regard or placement than UK ceremonies. Out of sight of the religious bit, on four sofas with a large burning coal bucket fire in the middle, the couples snuggle in sheets. The chuckling and 'hala boulah' of the guys I'm with is annoying an-drew-thropologist. My headache gives way and I retreat behind-the-scenes for a cigar. Suddenly I feel very seriously bad- depressed, invisible, without purpose or partnership. I rejoin the group and we leave shortly after – the gang are tired and very very cold. Somewhere near in time, I think of my place in all this. If I am without purpose and partnership, then how am I also with a best of my friends, realised in his family, celebrating it's extension. I will not have “my day” like t/his, but the next best thing just happened. Back home a half glass of whiskey is left to the side as the rest seeps me into sleep.

Slideshow

Video

8th - Hala Gulah

Wed, 23 Feb 2011 17:38:36 GMT

For previous entries in the Hala Gulah series.

Oww

Owwww

Oww

ohgod

Incomplete. First verse of epic. Discontinued in favour of more modern. I decided to miss breakfast so the alcohol migraine dissipates. But now my stomach will perform no more circus tricks, lecture cramming. It wants love, a day in bed, hiding from the publicity of ninja waiters. Guests are treated as gods, because they might just be and its all gotten a bit Old Testament and The Belly of the Beast. Hitesh texts. Rachit phones. I manage to pour jugs of lukewarm water and spill some of the fever down the drain before making it across town. (It's 15 minutes away in the next block, but because of Chandigarh's layout I get to use “across town”)

The interior of the house is further reconstructed with new tables and wallpaper. Out back, the gazebo. At the residence, the gathering is much bigger. I missed a very important ceremony apparently involving flowers. The ladies are all having their arms covered in henna tattoos, thick, like icing on a cake or the branches of a tree. The elderly gentlemen are engaging me more and I them, appreciating their guidance. I was 37 there and these home engagements appear to have only me in the 30-50 age bracket. Again, I am a welcomed anomaly “Come Andy!” says Varun and I break off a chat. I indulge him a little. Varun knows all about ceremonies like passing rupee notes above the groom's head. These notes are all exchanged for gold bits. The pieces are stacked on one end of a seesaw and the groom at the other. If they balance, Nupur's family judge Hitesh a suitable husband.

“Come!” he motions, wagging down a few fingers and smirking like the genie. “We are going to see them put shit on Hitesh.”

Out of silver-white layered tunic: tea shirt and jeans rolled to the calves. Four silver bowls by his sat ankles. Spices, one of which is turmeric, all are dipped in by two long thin leaves. I don't know plants anymore – let's call it ferns meets figs. The womenfolk anoint his head, his chest by shoulders, each parallel, legs above knees and ankles in folds. Then the menfolk have a go. Ashok invites me to join in – each of the four motions repeated as part of five cycles. Rachit is the last to go, and Hitesh takes the fifth – whole solutions to his scalp, earhole and back to bum. He's in most senses, pelted with eggs and flour as tied to a lamp-post. “Hala Boulah”, making ruckus.

Photo:

Video:

7th - p.m.

Wed, 23 Feb 2011 17:37:15 GMT

Continuing Indian Wedding Journal Series, in the style of an unappreciative sob, because they rock so hard my brains land in my drink and I drink them again because they taste so good.

Auntie, Zarren and family live in a three storey home. On the lower level, and upper, and inbetween, close kin. This is the way of most Indian families: nearby to turn to for guidance, support and friendship. Each level could be it's own independent functioning unit, in British terms, “family values”, are played much closer here. Which is kind of the point. I'm sleeping for 3-4 hours to get ready for Big Event #1. Well, not sleeping so much as resting, which my mum says is as good as a sleep. The room I stay in in Auntie's father's house has been held by brothers before departing for MBAs. Now it is Zarren's. The evening event is at Laguna, a venue about an hour away. Waiters pin from four directions. I do a poor job of slipping from their trays. At a bar we do a tequila, though mostly whiskey. Gaurav, our pal from Oxford Brookes is there. Manu's North London accent warms me when he's told I'm from the UK.

I'm screwing in lightbulbs, stubbing out fags.

Chicken satays, fish that look like chicken, mushrooms in garlic. And now the dinner, not joking. Nitin remarks how he watches me trying so many foods, to experience, and respects this. Laguna's inside function room has ten different salads, fifty mains and fifteen desserts. The silver and white sweets are recognisable as those given to Rahul and I by the ladies the morning after the ring ceremony, (along with a nice basket of fruit). These are made out of cashew nuts, milk and cream and come in a number of shapes – orange segment shape, tubular, rectangle, mushroom and diamond.

The Big Laguna

At some point around 1am I'm really fucked. When this happened, veins in my forehead transform into steel wire and tonight they're Harland and Wolff shipbuilders.

The car we are in is rocking from side to side but not just any road to Chandigarh. This is full-on bastard drum n bass. I'm so drunk that I don't even recall that my infatuation for gorgeous Zarren was becoming ridiculously uncomfortable. A firm non-smoker it's her suggestion we stop so I can have a smoke. In an empty commercial car lot, our doors open and the music explodes into the night. Some talk in English and Hindi. “For fucks sake” I say in profound and comical stride.

7

Wed, 23 Feb 2011 17:36:10 GMT

Morning in the park, sun enters one cheek and shade protects the other, allowed for the view of two giant magpie-likes. A breather before lunch at Hitesh's place. Four days ago it seemed like a barely inhabitable construction site. Yes, sawing, drilling, hammering, grinding of metal. Last night it was a new residence with new sofas, tables and fittings. On the outside, balconies had appeared, a net of stringed lights draping. Inside, new rooms of whiskeys and soups, roti, chicken-drumstick shaped pieces of fish. Everyone is including me, bar the 4 minute in-Hindi chats. Rahul, a work colleague with Hitesh at Crosslinkz and architect Zarren are my chums, I follow both like a puppy dog.

This one came and sat beside me 'til a fly startled my ear, jotter and his/her company.

Two schoolgirls, ages 7 or so, are dancing around me, moments of talk and shyness.

Anyway, oh they're hiding behind a tree wondering whether to approach me.

Hitesh treats the kids at dinner like my favourite uncles. He's ready. As we finish one course and move from that room, the renovators would fill it with throw rugs, glass tables and well it was all a bit Transformers really. Or M.A.S.K. If that's your reference, I don't suppose it is.

My belly is full again. My bum is so firey today I could light cigarettes with it. Which might happen. Smoking is done away from the parents and I become “the holder”, “the dealer” everytime the club wants one. Ciggies are about £1.25 for 20 here. Anyhow, time to find out if all this stuff will type itself.

It seems not. The internet cafe at 'Backside Entry' is refusing me access because I've no passport or ID with me. Another hang-over from the Bush-Shit Regime were making trouble for your neighbour represented prestige.

I'm not feeling so great
I put on lots of weight

-Ookla The Mok, Number One

My name is Sheila
Sheila Tikka Porty
I'm too sexy for yourselves'
Potato heart 'n' tum-my

-Current indian pop tune, perhaps misheard
(i heard this around fifty times during my stay which is more damaging than any form of jet lag you can think of, and some crashes. My mum would probably like it )

Afternoon of 7^th

Chikti Chinky in the garden with big sunglasses. Varun is her husband an irritating genie, particularly for his dick habit of referring to me as an Irish military terrorist. Slightly more endearing is his penchant for songs of beastiality in front of elderly woman and his ability as a storyteller which might take two men having a cup of chi and transform it into a Die Hard movie, or vice versa. I've gotten into the habit of getting introductions from others. Everyone is a cop or fed via Varun. Nitin is running around in some spectacular gear. He's Hitesh cousin and owing to a rip in time-space from tequila pounders and whiskey storm hailing from evening, much information is lost. Others are in my head. One was dressed approaching tweed scarved. I call him Biggles. Varun also; he was Sherlock. Nitin dressed alike cleric's frock. Rachit is instantly recognisable from all angles. The younger brother at twice the size, politically not dominating the areas he flits through: to populist response. Or rather, he's great craic. Friendly, helpful – hiding the weight of “responsibility”. Whether it be wrestling the kids, phoning everyone in or popping the head by.

Hitesh is wearing pink. I have a video to prove it.

So I'm meeting 101 Hindi relatives. Anuj is a second cousin with his family from New York. We discuss changes to Chandigarh: it's busier and the economy certainly seems healthier. “Everybody in India works”, Hitesh says. Many of the gathered are those of the new careers (data managers, project analysts), or hold posts as managers or architects. When asked I claim to be “a teacher who does a bit of writing” and sometimes “and drawing”. Which is true. But the reason I'm staying out of the sun is so I'm not asked any questions when I sign on for unemployment benefit. I share a strong work ethic – desire to contribute work for work's sake and to earn – but I should also be claiming salary-level disability benefits (i.e. The law says you are entitled to) If I had such a salary and didn't have to pay £20 for a haircut then I too would have an Indian-style wedding. Friends and family-friends from all points in our lifetimes together, anybody who would get a smile at “I married”, whether met 10, 20 yrs ago, that idea realised. Those informed our environment, grew us by feeding well wishes. As that loveable Tory (or Labour?) dick David Tennant would say, “People are great”

The last episode reunion special party at the end of the universe might just be a mythology. Or an indian wedding.