Once again, I will be reading from one of my personal diaries from years gone by to a room full of strangers.  Once again, there will be no censorship, disclosing my chaotic ramblings with no consideration of the subsequent disgust others may subsequently feel for me.  Once again, I will start a sentence with the words “Once again”.

The last one was recorded for a segment on BBC Radio 4′s Woman’s Hour and is to be featured in an article on the event for the next issue of the French glossy magazine Envy.  Merde.

Click here: http://www.justgiving.com/lasernipples

Give money.

Feel smug.

Celebrate with a tyre fire.

The Mars Volta – Deloused In The Comatorium

Death From Above 1979 – You’re A Woman, I’m A Machine

Justice – Cross

Hot Chip – The Warning

Errors – It’s Not Something But It Is Like Whatever

Foals – Antidotes

65 Days of Static – The Fall Of Math

System of a Down – Toxicity

Queens of the Stone Age – Songs For The Deaf

Aereogramme – A Story In White

I wrote an article for Musosguide (fantastic website, just had a redesign) which you can read here: http://bit.ly/neonmuseart

The whole RATM for Xmas #1 campaign is pointless, useless, inappropriate, hypocritical, misguided, childish and a sad reflection upon our vapid society. That’s why I just bought a copy of Killing In The Name.

Although it shames me to say it and although I do my best to hide it, at heart I’m a total fanboy.  Much to the amusement of those who’ve had the opportunity to witness it first hand, when I meet certain people who I have a great respect for words fail me and I often resort to an endless tirade of compliments and obscure references that prove I know more about them than your average Joe.  I’m not proud of it, and keep trying to change my actions on the odd occasion where it becomes an issue, but yet I don’t know what else to say.  To Stephen Malkmus in Cardiff, I’m sorry I chastised you for not playing an obscure b-side to a badly attended gig.  To Ian MacKaye in Newport, I’m sorry for implying that you weren’t voting in the US elections that day by being outside of the US.  Most recently to Kelson Mathias, I’m sorry for trapping you in a conversation discussing why Ted Leo isn’t more successful than he currently is and should be.

Speaking of Ted Leo, an early Xmas present arrived yesterday when I found out that he’s playing in Brixton in less than two weeks time.  I bought myself a ticket without hesitation before checking out the further details on The Windmill Brixton‘s website.  Surprisingly, there wasn’t much fanfare about Mr Leo playing the little friendly venue where I’ve had the pleasure to see Clem Snide, The Rumble Strips and Cymbals Eat Guitars amongst others, merely the words “Solo show from the mighty leader of The Pharmacists” and little more.  A scan a couple of lines down the page though and I saw something which sent adrenaline through my body and also let a little wee out.  “*Ted Leo *Gold Future Joy Machine *tbc”.  TBC?  Wait a second.  I’m in a band.  I live in Brixton.  Ted motherfucking Leo?  Before I could stop myself, I began constructing a lengthy email pleading with the venue to allow Neon Highwire to be that TBC.  Sure we sound very little alike, but a brief listen to Gold Future Joy Machine revealed that neither do they (if anything, they sound more like us).  Call it pathetic, call it wishful thinking, call it whatever you want but nothing you could call it stopped me writing to them.  I wish I could say this is the first time I’d done something like this, but I confess that a similar email to Club Fandango about a year ago regarding the incredible Future Of The Left that remained heart-breakingly unanswered (though I had a good time regardless).

I recall the effect Hearts Of Oak had when I was stuck in a rut living in Bridgend working a dead-end job.  When Ted announced a UK tour, I travelled up to London on two consecutive weekends to catch the shows.  It cost more money than I really should have spent, but for Ted Leo, it was worth it.  It was enough to snap me out of my haze and move to London to stay on my brothers floor, regardless of whether I had a job or not.  It was one of the best decisions I made.

With less than two weeks to go, and despite the fact that we’re in dire need of a break following intense recording, writing, gigging and mixing (not to mention our tragic jobs) lately, this wouldn’t just be the greatest Xmas present I’d ever receive.  This would render 2010 a moot point.  What is a boy to do?

In the slightly bastardised words of Steve Albini “Tim Perry, can ya hear me now?”

I’m running the Berlin marathon on Sunday.  It’s the first marathon I’ve ever run, and the realisation that I’m going to be running 26.2 miles is starting to sink in.