Sebastian Horsley At Foyles

Ignore the opening few minutes and the my drunken Camera. This is an unedited experience. Not much of him exists.

 

 

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Postcards From The Dead

Sebastian Horsley was a friend. He died 10 years ago tomorrow. I found this postcard a few days ago. I had used it as a bookmark, but not in his book: Dandy In The Underworld. Now it’s perhaps a Coda. He was a witty and mischievous soul, I loved him. I still, at times, wish he was playing a prank on us all. 

Isn’t this one of those moments when we have to entertain the notion of the dead communicating with us – Gustav Temple (Chap Magazine).

 

Peace To The UnUnited Queendom

 

100 Things I Love (Part5)

21. I love waking up as the sun rises, usually around dawn. My mind is always filled with ideas for songs, poems, film scripts, a cure for cancer, then I drift back to sleep and all is forgotten.

 

 Well, it depends on that dream doesn’t it 

Donald?

22. I love not having to work anymore: “The problem with not doing anything is you never get to take time off.” – Sebastian Horsley. 

Count how much money you have in your pocket then calculate the chances of living long enough to spend it.

23. I love Sebastian Horsley. He was such a dear friend and like all my dear friends I lose them. I hope not carelessly. 

R.I.P

24. I love going to other town bars a few miles away. The anonymity is thrilling. It is like a cloak of invisibility. I can sit alone in public, my name is not shouted at me. I am reborn nameless. I could try flip flops.

Do voyeurs like to be watched?

 

 

25. I love listening to film soundtracks on earbuds. The world is transformed. Crossing a road can become portentous, silly, ecstatic, deadly, pointless, but it is never just crossing the road.

 

 

“I’m using the chicken measure it”

A Minor Alteration (Brutal Tailoring in Andaluz)

It doesn't happen too often thankfully, given my propensity for frequenting bars of notoriety, that I get into an unresolvable disagreement with a fellow fool. Thus it was last Saturday that a gentlemanly disagreement compelled me to turn a chair over a chap of minimimilist logic. He left quickly.

I felt badly afterwards but felt much worse when a fellow patron of the bar pointed out the poorly executed alteration the fleeing fuck-wit had made to my jacket. I was however relieved that I managed retain some dignity; my silk pocket square stayed in place during the entire cuffufle.

I usually remove my hat before embarkation, as this usually signals to any fellow wrangler of my unhappy intentions, i.e. To instill a firm understanding of “The Gooobye Look.” He shall be hearing from my Tailor!

 

Sebastian Horsley On Drugs