Yesterday I saw the coolest thing I have ever seen. I will lay it out in a bullet point list for clarity:
Whoa, right? I’m pretty sure that if you asked me as an 8 year old to draw the coolest thing ever this would be it. Leather jacket, dog, skateboard, pizza, skids, nonchalance - it’s all there. I feel so lucky to have seen such a thing!
I bet you’ve seen some cool things though, eh? What is the coolest thing that you have ever seen?
Today I gave a keyboard lesson to a 9 year old girl who lives down my street. She’s getting piano lessons at school to learn technique and all that good stuff, but I’m giving her extra “fun” lessons at home so she can learn her favourite songs and generally get excited about music. The songs she wanted to learn included two Nicki Minaj tunes and a Katy Perry number. I wasn’t particularly psyched about any of those, particularly the Nicki Minaj ones where the videos are entirely tit based. But the other item on the list was the Macklemore and Ryan Lewis song Same Love. I’d not heard it before and the video made me well up when I watched it today. Maybe I’m a softy but it’s really nice.
The keyboard lesson went well, she nailed the bass pattern in no time at all. We put the “hip hop shuffle” beat on the keyboard and she rocked the left hand part while I jammed the main riff. She had such a massive smile on her face that I couldn’t help but grin too! So excited to be learning her favourite song, and actually playing along with it! We invited her mums in to listen.
Thass right… this girl lives in a family with two mums. She is a badass, awesome kid who is acing school, has tremendous talent and will no doubt kick the crap out of whatever she decides to do. Her mums radiate nothing but love and support for her and anyone would be lucky to have parents like them.
They said that when their daughter first saw the Same Love video she played it over and over again and showed it to anyone who would sit down long enough. I can’t wait until she can play the song and sing the words too, it’s going to be crazy poignant, yo.
I’m not that into American dubstep. It is too abrasive for me. It sounds like a bunch of dick-ligaments grating against each other or a banjo string vs. a penknife.
All the best,
A couple of months ago my Project Trident buddies and I entered the Sci-Fi London 48 Hour Film Challenge. I took the roles of actor and sound designer. There is a making-of video in the works so I’m not going to bother talking much about what happened and instead show you a bunch of photos from the scrapyard and airfield we filmed in.
There was a colossal airbus we could film inside. It was really very big and the front of it swung open to allow cargo like flipping whole LORRIES or probably even boats to go inside.
OK so I guess I’m some sort of artist and today I’ve been worried because I don’t have an artist’s statement. But after this it’s going to be ok because I’m going to start writing and I’ll chuck in words from the dictionary and use a thesaurus to compose an artist’s statement that will be a work of art in and of itself. Honestly, I’m not really sure what an artist’s statement is, but here goes:
Imagine, if you will, a gargantuan tower looming gargantically over a diminutive, derelict shed - peasized to the treesize of the tower. The tower’s got loads of gold and jewels spurting out the top into space, like a decadent wang of opulence, but the foundations of the tower sprawl out like grey tendrils across the land, sucking vigour from all things - desaturating whole flowerbeds and deflating hordes of plump clouds etc. The shed’s got just a trowel in it, and a broken pot. But, right, in the pot is a bean, a minuscule bean, but so bright like a laser pointer, just quivering in the bottom of the pot. There is no soil around it so it cannot grow yet.
SIMON PANRUCKER ARRIVES AT THE SHED. He flings open the door like a stern cowboy that knows exactly what to do. The bean quivers with increasingly furious intensity. SIMON PANRUCKER looks at the tower, which is still spunking all the gold spunk and rubies into space without a hoot. He shakes his head, crestfallen, and says quietly, “Enough.”
SIMON PANRUCKER drops his kecks and y-fronts majestically and squats down over the flower pot. The little bean starts ricocheting about, pinging off the pot sides with fevered eagerness. Cinematic strings soar as SIMON PANRUCKER clenches with unbridled glory. His eyes wince and his teeth grit and his knuckles pop as they grip and shake and he takes in the deepest breath of maybe 50% of the entire atmosphere and as he breathes out he roars the loudest roar and the ground rumbles and the earth cracks and from above we see the shed explode to reveal SIMON PANRUCKER squatting over a flowerpot, trousers resplendently around his ankles, bumhole poised heroically above the tiny bean.
The roar continues as the nose of a gleaming, glistening stool begins to poke out from the butthole, timid at first but gaining in resolution with every second as it nuzzles forward. An albatross sees the poignant turtlehead from high up and says something like, “Wow… just… wow…” before it passes out from the beauty and plummets to the ground, only reawakening at the very last moment to swoop up into the sky with a loop-the-loop and a caw that makes all the birds in the whole sky start looping-the-loop all over the place.
SIMON PANRUCKER continues to roar as the turtlehead becomes more like a fat, hanging dogtail, reaching ever more tantalisingly close to the insanely excited bean. The veins bulge out of his marble slab of a forehead like electric eels as the roar rises to a bloodcurdling scream, which is a weird reaction because the turd isn’t even that big but it’s just really dense because it’s completely full of world-changing potential.
Finally the music cuts out and the magical bum-egg plops onto the bean. Without missing a moment SIMON PANRUCKER spins around, grabs the trowel and smooths everything over. He stands back as the wind whistles through the crack in the plantpot. The birds have stopped looping-the-loop and are just hovering in one place. A stillness decends. Even the massive tower has stopped jizzing out gemstones for a second because it knows that everything is about to shift at a fundamental level.
The surface of the smoothed out turd is as flat and shiny as an oil spill; completely placid. Maybe it was all for nothing. But wait! In the middle something is happening… The surface bends and ripples rainbow reflections. Suddenly a green sprout pokes through, tests the air for a split second, then shoots up into the sky, propelled by a thick, ropy beanstalk that blasts powerfully around the opulent wang-tower, wrapping it and squeezing it so hard that it swells and bursts and all the gold and jewels spurt wildly out in every direction, covering each bird in the sky with sweet gold chains and grills and they start looping-the-loop again and the light flashes off them brilliantly as they sing a major 9th chord that shimmers through the air like a heat haze and makes the beanstalk grow and grow, higher and higher, stretching with the sound of a thousand rubbed balloons, and it grows up and up, into space, into the unknown, into the realm of adventure and dreamtime and mild peril and actual peril and then it stops. It is done.
SIMON PANRUCKER looks at what he has made. He nods peacefully. About 30 blinged out birds fly down to clutch at his sleeves. One little bird flies down to help pull his trousers and pants back up but SIMON PANRUCKER looks at the bird with a gentle smile and says, “Leave them.” The little bird nods in agreement and flies up to help the others as they flap in unison to lift SIMON PANRUCKER onto the first leaf of the beanstalk, sunset scattering beams of golden light from just below his balls.
Once they have set him down the birds fly off to be rad somewhere, singing crazy Philip Glass style arpeggios now. SIMON PANRUCKER cranes his neck at the beanstalk that stretches upward for an eternity. In one incredibly slick movement he kicks his trousers and pants totally off and they land on the floor perfectly folded. He is ready to start the climb. The beanstalk sways gently in the breeze, creaking like an exciting pirate ship. SIMON PANRUCKER cracks his knuckles and grips hold of the next leaf. He nods like a big champ and says, “Let’s do this.”
With a grunt he pulls himself up to the next leaf, but the exertion makes him fart and the sound is very clear without trousers or pants on and he laughs a lot. Suddenly serious, he tenses again. This time a fart rings out but with such sphinctal control that it forms actual words and the land echoes with a rapturous blowoff proclaiming raspily, “MY NAME IS SIMON PANRUCKER, HEAR ME ROOOAAAARR!”
And then he climbs up and has loads of great adventures.
ARTIST’S STATEMENT BY SIMON PANRUCKER, AGED 27, JUNE 2013
It was my Mum’s birthday at the start of April. My Dad, Sister, Brother-in-Law, nieces and I went on holiday with her in Suffolk for a few days. I took some photos so here are some photos. You must click on any photos that you like to see the bigger version, okay?
I haven’t done a blog for a while so here’s a dump of recent photos with high-quality annotations. To begin: it was my birthday on 1st March and by way of celebrating I played a gig as part of Cambridge Band Competition. You can watch my set here! I did not win the judges’ vote but I won the loudest cheer over all the heats so I’m through to the final - yippee! The final is on 5th April and you can get tickets here. Come and have a nice time with me please.
Also on my birthday I received many nice birthday wishes and cards. My friend Becky baked me a cheesy “S” as an edible component to the card she gave me look check it out:
Last Wednesday I went to see Louis CK at the O2 arena. He was very funny and I laughed all the time. It was pretty nuts that 20,000 people had gathered there to watch a lone man talk about his balls etc. I’ve never been to a comedy show that big before, it was a weird thing! But it was good, and that is that. Before we went to the show we drank a couple of cheap beers in the park like classy aristocats. My buddy Chris had a few left so he hid them in his bag to sneak past security. I am not joking when I say he made it through the bag check station like this:
Here are some other assorted photos:
That’s it for now, thanks for stopping by, I love you.