Her.

People seem to be intrigued by the woman introduced in the first chapter. So as another little teaser, here is their first conversation. I trust it'll leave you wanting more ;)

“How much?”

“30, 50”

“Shit, you’re a bit pricy! Where do you think you are, Amsterdam?”

“I think I’m the best looking girl you’ve seen in months, and you’re desperate for a fuck, so you’ll quite happily part with the 50 quid so I can show you how us grown-ups do it.”

“How old do you think I am?!”

“Come on darling, you and me both know that you’re just a kid. You may have been around the block, judging by the track marks, but it doesn’t change the fact that I'm your senior, and know a bit more than you.”

“Whatever. If I’m paying for this, I don’t want any more backchat like that. I want it my way.”

“I know you’re getting a kick out of it.”

“Are we gonna just stand here and chat about my age all day, or can we go and do this thing?”

Novel.

I'm writing a novel. It's not a nice novel. I have a good idea of the storyline, and it doesn't end pretty. I thought I'd share the first chapter, which is kind of like a prologue.

Chapter One

 

She died in the spring of 2008. They were unfortunate circumstances. Not unfortunate enough to absolve me of all blame, but somehow the word ‘unfortunate’ comforts me. We thought we were entrepreneurs. We were just junkies. Cocaine was so easy. You can make so much out of so little, and the rewards are endless. We had our connection, we had our plan, all we needed was a little luck. Or so we thought. You may be thinking the drugs killed her, and you’d be right, in a way... except, the fatal blow that killed her was from a bullet. One shot fired off by a brutal murderer. One shot, that ended our dream. Since I’m still here, I’m the only one who can tell our story, and it needs to be told. I guess a story should start from the beginning.

Ever since I was a kid I was surrounded by narcotics. I was born in 1980, into a family of drugs. My father, well, he was the kingpin. If you wanted anything, and I mean anything, and you had some relationship with my father, he would get it for you. He was a big shot in London, and the pigs couldn’t touch him. Despite this reputation, he was a good father. He never touched the drugs he was peddling, so he had lots of sense, and certainly lots of love for his family – except my mother. She wasn’t as ‘pure’ as my father. She got hooked on heroin when I was young. So, my father’s decision was to kick her out. “It was for your own good”, he’d tell me, when I knew it was just because he couldn’t be seen married to a junkie. So, it was just me and my father. All he needed was his good clean son. Then came the day I most regret in my life. The day when this whole thing started, and my life became fucked up for eternity.

“Umm... Could I maybe... try some coke, Dad?”

He lost it. I was 15 at the time, and he was horrified at the fact that I had even thought about it. To be honest, I wasn’t all that keen on taking drugs, but I just wanted to throw the question out there, and see what response I got. That line of thinking landed me on my arse. I needed a job and I needed a home. I don’t remember a lot of the next 2 years. All I know is that I took a fuck of a lot of heroin - so much so that I owed money to nearly every dealer in town, and these were not nice dealers. That’s when I met her.

I told you it wasnt pretty.

Reflections.

I'm in a funny mood.

And when I'm in a funny mood, I often feel like blogging, as it helps me figure out why the hell I feel this way.

Right, so as some of you may know, I'm currently in London. I've been feeling more and more homesick, and even more so now that I'm travelling alone. I've also been thinking about the friends I've made through the internet too.

I told myself that I wouldn't ignore the internet. Sure, I'd spend way less time on it, and I'd enjoy the freedom from my computer, but I still wanted to maintain contact. I don't think I've done that very well. I've had very few decent conversations with people, and some people I've pretty much ignored completely. I feel terrible for this.

I also said I'd make videos and vlogs while away. I've failed at that too. Realistically I haven't had the time or space to do vlogs, and I don't mind not having done any. I do feel bad for my subscribers though. I haven't made a video for a month, and it'll be another 2 weeks until the next one. Considering I made 50 videos in 6 months, this isn't my usual level.

I think I will start afresh when I return to NZ. I'm going to have a massive clean-up of my videos, so the number reduces drastically. Also, I may separate my music and my vlogs onto different channels. At the moment I kind of feel like they are competing with one another, and I'm sure some out there would rather watch one or the other. So I think I'll give them that opportunity.

Less vlogging next year I think too. I don't really know who I'm doing it for anymore. I've made so many friends out of this experience, and that's all I really wanted to do through this whole YouTube thing. Clearly filmmaking is not my expertise, so why bother with something I don't have a huge passion for. This is why I may stick largely to music. I get more pleasure out of that.

I've been writing heaps over here. Not just songs and poems, but I've started a novel too. I'll update on how that's going later.

I'll give an update on the trip at a later date. I just can't be fucked talking about myself anymore.

x

.

I feel fucking terrible.

That is all.