King of summer

Dunno if you know this or not but last year I was the official king of the UK Summer.

True.

I've been planning my festivals for this year recently. Working out which ones I want to go to and where/if I might want to perform at any.

So far it looks like going to 5 performing at 2. Good ratio I think.

Anyway, it got me thinking about this thing I almost wrote last year about

sex at festivals. 

See I didn't have a blog then so I'm gunna put it up here, now.

Yu know it all seams very romantic,
You meet a girl at a festival, 

Everything seems magical,
Yu feel like you’ve really connected,
You take her back to your tent, or you go back to hers,
Smoke a spliff together, or drink a little whisky or something,
You both get in your sleeping bag,
And just start exploring and discovering each other,
Yu know just mutually experiencing and sharing in this perfect festival moment of loveliness,
It’s a beautiful, romantic, idea,
Beautiful,

The idea that is,
But then when it comes down to the actual reality of it,
And its about 5 o clock in the morning, the sun’s already come up and now it’s really pressing against the outside of yu tent, turning the inside into some kind of stinking, humid, sweat-ridden, claustrophobic, slow boiling, canvass oven,

When yu find yuself slumped across the back half of a girl you never really found that attractive, 

a girl who's been becoming steadily less attractive in the last sort of twenty minutes,
And yu repeatedly bashing your hips into her hips as you struggle unsuccessfully to thumb a semi-flaccid, festival-weathered penis into a well-used yet surprisingly arid and unyielding vagina,

And as yu gasping for breath, and the mucus your sweating falls from your face into the small off her back and the nylon of the tents clammy innards cling to your weary shoulders,
And as yu look down at the business end it becomes obvious that there is no way your gunna be able to push your increasingly indifferent windsock of a penis into what now looks like a necklace of human ears and bacon fat,

And yu just trying to cough up enough saliva to be able to swallow even though you know it’s a lost cause, and the stink of piss and sweat and shit and cum and blood and earth and nylon and baby wipes and stale smoke and cock and feet and vagina catches the back of yu throat making yu retch and gag almost choking you on yu own dry tongue,

Yu just got to say tu yuself,

Ah god

This is awful.

Moggelin.

Yeah check this out I'm in someone else's blog.

House Of Billiam

Industry people

My half-cousin twice removed was saying yesterday how he wants to be an industry person.

I told him if there’s one kind of person I unequivocally hate then it’s fucking industry people. Dirty-nosed, pin-striped, fileofax-weilding, no-talent, art-raping idea thieves.

Make’s me want to start shitting into padded envelopes and posting them round to all the industry offices. Even though I know full well that they’ve got some volunteering cock-sucker of an art school graduate who’s sole purpose for existing is to make regular trips to Nero for skinny decafe what’s-the-fucking-point lattes and to spend around 3 hours a day filtering all the incoming mail so as to make sure all my envelopes were spotted before they reached their intended targets. Poor little wannabe fuck-job.

The way that I’d do it would be to drop my load on a sheet of A4 grease-proof paper, fold the paper in half secluding my secretion in the belly of the fold, then carefully stuff the folded paper into the envelope, seal it with gaffa-tape, and beat it flat with a table-tennis bat. 

This way when the package is opened and it’s contents tipped out onto the desk, 

the paper should unfold upon landing revealing a filthy, stinking, toothless, corn-ridden, Rorschach butterfly smiling back at him. 

A virtual mirror of an industry person’s heart.

"Looks like we got us a reader"

At one point last night I was in a room in the upstairs of an East end pub while a group of about 40 fairly cultured people chanted Rape at an 18 year old girl.

[Edit: She's contacted me on Face book, 

Turns out she's only 16].

Had a gig init,

I know what yu thinking, after last months fairly well publicized notoriously "Bad Gig" I bet some of you are surprised to see folk are still willing to book me. (To be honest this had been booked for ages and the new booking ain't exactly flooding in), 

but Berko's still on the circuit. 

Infact I'd like to take this opportunity to commend the bravery of the promoter, Jody Porter, who'd already booked me but choose not to sack me off. Even though I'm pretty sure he must have got a lot of negative pressure from the promoters guild, (I feel reasonably confident in asserting that there must be some kind of guild/co-op of promoters who meet on regular occasions to discuss my blog, it's just like the coalition of psychoanalysts who meet to discuss the validity of my deluded assertions).  

Anyway, Nice one Jody. 

14 hour at the griffin

Shorditch London

right this one was a bit different to the kind of gigs I normally do,

This time I was asked to read, Yeah "Read" not just talk like what I normally do.

tell yu the truth,

I'm not much of a reader.

But the idea of it made me nervous and excited in the kind of way that teenagers get right before their first sexual experience.

Yu know the feeling of really wanting to do it but not completely understanding the mechanics of it. Hoping to think that I'd probably be good at this but at the same time not completely sure that I'd know how to do it right.

Right, I was the headline which meant that I got to watch a couple of actual readers doing there thing before I came along to lower the tone,

One of these readers was a girl called Ash.

She did a few things, some were about relationships/sex etc.

One of her poems included a list of things that were better than sex and she pointed into the audience for us to shout out our own suggestions.

I shouted Vagina and it sort of through her off, but to be honest she opened that can of beans when she pointed her finger at ol' Berxy.

Anyway, it was this girl Ash that they were chanting at,

she offered us a choice for her last poem. It was either one about a girl who got raped or one about her ex I think.

it took literally seconds for the "Rape" chant to start.

In the end I found myself standing up in front of the girl calling for the crowd to back down, 

Shit was like the Colosseum,

In retrospect I imagine after the whole vagina thing, the sight of me lumbering towards her as an excited crowd incessantly chanted "Rape, Rape, Rape, Rape," might have been a bit daunting, I'd like to hope the memory should at least stay with her for a couple of days.

I was on next, here's how I opened my part of the show.

thanks to Inua for filming.

I actually read some sections of this blog and an edited version of the first 3 chapters of DogMan.

If your interested in DogMan you can read it all if yu like. Here it is.

All in all it seemed that everyone in the room was into what I was doing, 

everyone, the crowd, the promoter, even me.

I think this might be the beginning of a new style of gig for me. Berkavitch the Reader. Crazy.

Oh and in case all you people were wondering. No I didn't get paid. But I didn't want paying, it had been arranged. Basically it's a free entry night run by good people who do it for the love of what they do. 

Yeah they actually love it.

Thing is I love it to yu see, and it's all about supporting the events that support the people who do what we all love.

Berko out.

"for many years in the future I will be fascinated by time travel",

this blog for example, exists in multiple times,

right now it is only 2 lines long and only exists as an idea from the past about the future being brought into existence now. In the present.

When I wrote that in the past it was true but right now in the present as your reading this then that might seem confusing, if you ever read this passage again in the future it'll probably make more sense,

OK

In the past when I thought about writing this my plan was to read it out in front of a crowd in a room in London, In the present this is still my plan. 

In the future I have achieved this, in fact that's happening right now, In this room with these people,

I am filming it here in the present, I plan to put the video on youtube in the future, when I do it'll appear in the past as if it was always there, 

See 

If you where in the video of the past and it looks like I don't know you, that's because I haven't met you yet, I'm gunna do that now.

"hello,

what's your name,

good to meet you"

see perhaps time is an unchangeable constant and all our destinies are predetermined,

or maybe I'm just talking shit, there is no video, I never read this out, we never met, the future is undetermined and the past was written earlyer today.

Who watches what I'm watching?

you know what this is.

It's Berko's occasional foray into telling yu about things to watch,

I'm gunna build it in though.

check it out

I've been doing a lot of youth projects of late, (I figured I should try and give something back to da yute dem).

On one project I had a 14 year old girl called Sophie tell me,

"Yu know what yeah? If you got a decent hair cut, had a shave and got some nice clothes then you might be alright yu know, not alright to fancy like, but alright as a mate."

I told her if she was about 10 years older and didn't have a mouth like an arse then she might be alright an all,

anyway on a different project I'm working with a graphic novelist called Al Davison a.k.a. the Astral Gypsy.
Al is one of the most inspirational people I have ever met so check him out.
Al has made me want to develop moments from my life into comic form, so I've been drawing a lot on the last few weeks.
He made his own life story into a graphic novel called The Spiral Cage
and the forward is written by Alan Moore.
Yeah Alan Moore........ who wrote Watchmen. (Bang d'yu see how I linked it).
So anyway I've just finished watching the Watchmen motion comics, (torrent link)
It's the graphic novel set in motion, It's like a cartoon but it's not a cartoon. Feels like a film because of the angles yu get me.
I'm saying it's probably one of the best things I've ever seen. And I fucking mean that.

This is an edited version with Alan Moore reading the duologue

I really like the character Rorschach,
The one with the mask that changes to different "blot-test" patterns.
Down load the torrent and watch it eh.
Anyway the films out now init.
I'm actually gunna go the the cinema.
yeah not downloading. can you imagine?
We're going in a group of us, bout 10 I reckon, and we've been talking about taking masks so we can fight some crime on the way home.
I've been a vigilante once before and it was one of the best moments of my life.
Tell yu about it next time.

here's a Rorschach test yu can do yourself, write down what you think each blot looks like and email it to me.

The other side of the Lectern.

I was on it yesterday yu know.
I had to give a talk at a University,
Well I say talk, it was more just an introduction,
and I say University, it was actually Demonfort.
I was actually introducing one of the special guests they had for the cultural exchanges thing that's been going on all this week.
Big up Demontfort for this week, there's been some good people on, Lemn Sisay, Billy Brag,

They got me in cos this time their guest was my mate, JONZI D. so it made sense for me to big him up eh.

if you don't know Jonzi then click his big name up there and have a look.
He's basically one of hiphop theatre's pioneers. Hiphop theatre is basically theatre made in the audio/visual language of hiphop and it's elements. The hiphop elements are basically rapping, breaking, djing, graffiti and beatbox. so that's basically it.
Basically

see I worked with Jonzi since 2006 and we've spent a lot of time talking about hiphop as a language so if yu want I can get less basic.
in fact that shit gets as deep as time travel.
Right I ain't telling yu bout Jonzi's talk cos he does um all over the place so catch it yu self. Trust me though it's worth a listen.

here's my role in the day as a list of actions and observations.

Enter building,

follow signs to hospitality suit,

sit watching excited faces talking through smiles at nodding Jonzi,

watch Jonzi process information before spilling answers into hungry ears,

hungry myself now,

ask about buffet and smile as am pointed in it's direction,

sandwiches spread thinly over mostly empty table, run my fingers through them,

fillings unfamiliar,

put tea bag in cup,

fill cup with hot coffee,

realise mistake and back away from table empty handed,

they're calling me now,

follow people down stairs and into room,

more excited faces pregnant with promise and anticipation, naive vestals ready to be filled from Jonzi's fountain of hiphopology,

2 o'clock now I stand at lectern,

recant story of our first meeting

Jonzi smiles, story finishes,

We awkwardly embrace,

I sit, writing this,

Jonzi finishes speaking people leave,

we leave to.

Tell yu what yeah,

Have you ever had one of them really busy days? 

I'm talking about the 12 hours of workshops in 2 different cities, 

50 cups of coffee and a pack and a half of bacco, 90 miles on road kind of days. 

Well yu know ain't nothing more refreshing at 

the end of one of these kind of days than 

half a bag of mixed cans.

Costs £3.50/£3.60 

(depending on whether they're 50p or 60p) 

and yu get half a bakers dozen (6/7)

Drink 'em wi'yu cheese-on/beans-on eh.

Birthday Suit.

It was my Birthday t'other week.

Below is a picture of my favorite Birthday Present.

Nuff said.

Thanks Nat x

You know me so well.

I'm retracting that retraction

Right yu know the whole thing about the me not making it to the radio and it all being my fault?

Well Fuck that shit.

I ain't in the wrong on this one.

It all comes down to this woman.

Jen Roberts

Look if your a poet/musician/comic then heed the name cos I reckon this woman is out to rip you off.

This is the woman who runs the 2-bit piece of shit radio station that don't fucking exist and if it does don't get any fucking listeners 'sept for folks tuning in to be disappointed that I ain't onit.

Well last night I done a gig for her again. (I know, I must have dickhead written on my forehead).

But seeing as how I've not performed both the last 2 times I was supposed to be in London I figured this time I had to do it. Either that or get a reputation. 

Anyway the gig its self was at the Library on Upper Street. Crazy thing for me is that this venue is on the corner of my Auntie and Uncles street. Small World eh. I didn't ring 'um cos I figured they'd of seen the flyers etc what with it being like 45 seconds from their front door.

So I've arrived met this woman and sat down to write a set list. To be honest there were maybe 25-30 people in the venue and probably about 40% of them were there for the event. The rest, as far as I could tell looked like they'd come out because they like having poetry in the background as they talk really loudly about how cultured they are. Dicks.

I'd talked my mate Steve into filming my performance and had decided to do the whole set as a homage to Bernie Mac. 

"Straight off the bat, I ain't scared of you mother fuckers"

Turns out that's not what they wanted. In a moment of panic I tried to fall back on some A material (a joke about wanking off midgets), but again not what they were looking for.

Here's a video so you can see how much they weren't into it. Note the amount of other people talking over me eh.

I'd managed to win a few people round by the end but generally they weren't into what I was doing. Still I only had to do fifteen minutes and Steve enjoyed it.

Sound of Rum were also performing on the bill and that's about 80% of why I agreed to do the gig. After the gig I was chatting to Kate Tempest (S.O.R) and it turns out neither one of us could remember making any arrangement about money. (I know, Dickheads init.)

Well i approached this Jen Roberts woman putting on my best gentleman's goloss all like 

"hi Jen I can't remember if we made an arrangement about money, am I invoicing you?"

She comes like "No we didn't make an arrangement about money and I've only just broken even so I'm afraid I can't give you anything."

I'm like, "sorry what do you mean?"

She's like "You should have made an arrangement about money before you came because we didn't make any money. what do you want me to do? pay you out of my own bank account?"

I'm like, "yeah you could at least cover my petrol that way I don't have to pay money out of My bank account for your night." 

She's like, "Well I didn't even know you were coming from Leicester."

I'm like "Yeah maybe on Tuesday but after the message you sent me regarding my blog and driving home etc,"

She's like, "Well you can't expect to get paid for gigs if your not, yu know, right up there. This is good promo for you."

I'm like "How's UK Slam Champion for right up there? How's 4 star reviews in the Sunday Telegraph? that up there is it? To be honest Luv I probably didn't need to drive all this way to promote my self to 25 people who are more concerned about being seen here than they are about listening to the acts, also I have family that live on this street and they usually travel all across London to watch me and my brother perform, If they're not here that's down to your promotion."

It was part way through this sentence that she just turned her back and started walking off and it was at that exact moment that I switched.

I'm like, "Oi, Oi, OI. Don't be just walking away from me mid fucking sentence"

But she did.

went and hid in the toilets for like half an hour. I waited in the bar and eventually she came out and went over to the bar manager. I watched her talk to him. I saw him take money from the till and give it to her. Then she walked over to me and Kate and she's all like "The Bar Man will give you both petrol money and I'll sort it out with him next month, I hope you're happy." Then she scuttled off no doubt to try and find her next mark.

Well anyway we waited about till like 1 in the fucking morning. (I was on at 8.45) 

Eventually when we are the only people left the bar manager comes over and asks us 

"What are you still waiting for?"

I explain what This woman said to me and he's like "No, I gave her the money for you from the till."

I went off a little bit but it weren't this geezers fault. Eventually he gave me and The Rums £15 each but that was only because he knew that if he didn't I wasn't leaving.

Brass Tacks.

If you're a poet, and a woman called Jen Roberts tries to book you for an event called behind the mic, then do us a favor.

 Agree to do the gig and on the day don't show up. If you do this I'll give you £10. 

Trust me that's £10 more than you'll get out of Blood-Stone Roberts

and Jen if you're reading this and I hope to fuck that you are then I'd like to take this opportunity to tell you to go fuck yu self you pretentious vacuum of shit. Oh and fuck your piece of shit nobody's-ever-heard-of radio show an all. That's what I think.

This is not a retraction

In regards to my blog about the radio last night.

My second cousin half removed Tom has pointed out that I should have just called the lady runing the show.

He's right. The whole thing was completely my fault.

Sorry.

War Magazine

That's an article about Pillers in the first issue of the relaunched 

War Magazine.

Here's a review I've sent them for the next issue.

See if they print it eh.

The Man in The Mirror

By John Berkavitch

Have you heard the expression Turkish Cousins? 

It’s when instead of actually touching each other, 

a man and woman just watch each other masturbate.

 

See I was keen to try it and I'd heard about this technique 

for stand-up-show-wanking, (wanking for an audience). 

In the absence of any woman willing to consent to my experiment 

I used a mirror, but the basic principals are the same. 

Here’s the theory. I stand naked with my left side facing the mirror 

and grip my erect penis with my right hand. Holding the hand in place, 

I thrust with my hips simulating the action of sex. 

Basically fucking the hand.

That’s the pretence. The reality of it was very unsatisfying. 

It was a lot more tiring and time consuming than your standard wank 

and eventually I just gave in and finished off as usual. 

I also found the mirror very distracting. Looking at myself really 

brought home the reality of what I was doing and inspired feelings of 

disappointment, guilt and shame. So in that respect a lot like actual sex. 

I’ve been trying to put the whole thing behind me 

but still can’t make eye-contact with my reflection. 

Next month I plan to give myself a stranger. 

Long Drive to nothing

Yo,
Sposed to have a gig on't' Radio in London yesterday.
Yeah I drove down.
South London so 2 hours drive from Leggy.
The address I had was number 144.
I got to the building numbers 140-148, I rang all the buzzers and waited


I continued to ring buzzers every couple of minutes for about half an hour then decided to drive home.

Yeah 2 hours back an all.

Turns out I was knocking on the wrong door, idiot.
The woman who runs it said I should have come to the side door.

I didn't know that till today.

Look, the long and short of it is that for a wile some people close to me have been calling me "No-Show-Berko" cos I tend to not show up to social somethings.

I'm not sure if I'm completely to blame this time, but I am pretty sure that as far as the radio listeners were concerned I was a No-Show. 

So now my side of it's out there eh, .

Self portrait

I've been doing quite a few of these.