Glen Strachan is a raging belljester, currently working on long-term project The Love Rivals, 36 character portraits celebrating the individual.

Art art art. Are we all finally sick of it. The world has changed so much this past 20 years, humour itself has grown cutting. What is there will soothe our sunburnt eyes, what what, which moon is there, what water? Clouds, come! Gather round. The value of innocence has plummeted, further, is plummeting still. Silence is all that survives us. Invisible stars, silent.


I don't miss the noise. I long for nothing, truly, save for such senescentials propped up in a circle surrounding me. I'm happy. Soft, soft books, cream coloured pages, soft, sad sky. Winds of the immortals, bones of the Tao.

Put my jumper on, and a new pair of slippers, and early this morning I tottered outside. English, Autumn trees dapple sunlight with leaves in such ways only birds can describe.

I'm back to tutoring again, which will keep me in London at least until exam time next Summer, but right now I can't imagine ever wanting to leave. I was forged in these green & pleasant fires, I know where I stand with unobscured vision from the vanguard.

So, work. Music. Most people don't know about my band England & The April. Formed in 2005, we released 3 albums in 2 years, and played a lot of shows around the UK. This trilogy ultimately chronicled my love of England followed by disillusionment and decline into projected madness. Bucolic minimalism turned old Vauxhall Astra with broken glass like broken teeth, twisted & burnt out by the rude canal. Clumsy! Curious children pulled short like dogs, feral boys smoke in the drivers seat. Somehow it's a postcard; a polaroid; neat.

I actually moved to Berlin 10 years ago because it was the traditional enemy. England betrayed me, so I crossed over to the other side. Now I'm back in London, I'm a dirty double agent, and a sequel seems inevitable.

Tolstoy's portrayal of the artist Mikhailov in Anna Karenina, and the comparison with Vronsky, is the best description I've ever read of how it feels to be an artist surrounded by charlatans in this world. (Part 5, Chapter 11+ if you're interested - it can be read completely independently of the novel as a whole).

Back to this life then, eating well, reading bin-bags full of literature and taking walks along the Thames. I can hardly believe Greenwich exists, it's like a fairytale town. I pop to the Queens house daily, stroll up to the planetarium, nibble on a biscuit. Come visit sometime, I'll "get you on a higher plane to a jet stream and take you through the stratosphere and check out the planets there and then take you down deep where it's hot, hot in Arabia, babia, then cool, cold fields of snow and we'll roll, dream, roll, dream, roll, roll, dream, dream.." er, yeah. Nice one Patti.

I busted out that poem (previous page) in 5mins flat, but I'm pretty pleased with it. We are all lunar in nature, drifting through phases as gravity's slave, mostly hidden by the shadow of the Earth except on those silver, spherical days that drive everyone up the wall.

Click poster for the Jeeps show event in London on Sat 18th Nov:

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