My Blog #015 ~ An unlikely reunion!

Hello it is me again (Rory). I am back connected to the internet with news of excitements that have befallen me over the last months!

A quick update for any concerned parties (uncle Craig) - the only damage from my long covid is liver and brain damage.

As this is my first update in many months, I should bring all you virtual pals up-to-date!

~ ~ ~

In July last year I was humbled into admitting Covid-19 was indeed a genuine pandemic when I got the illness.

It is possible I infected many many people as I was prostituting myself at the time* (thanks to a bad bunch who befriended me).  Witnessing first hand, hospitals filled with coronavirus sufferers like myself, was a mindblowing situation.  It was this reality that helped me realign and recognise my mental troubles.

Once well enough to be on my feet, I began seeing several mental health professionals who have been very good for me (well, Dr. Carol is at least, I don't expect to be seeing Dr. Murdock again anytime soon**).

I now realise I am a submissive personality and inflicted with manias. Which specifically my doctor doesn't know yet.  We are working through this.

I would like to thank the excellent health carers of Thurso and Scrabster for these last eighteen months and apologise again for making their jobs so much harder.

But what of the excitements I promised?

These come in the shape of a very unlikely reunion!

~ ~ ~

Just before last Christmas I received a visitor.  An old colleague; musician, poet, explorer - it was Mr. Steven Wicked (form. Glenn Glenson)!

For years I'd feared seeing my old friend Steven again.  His face represented something I had grown to hate: my own failings.  But the day he did turn up on my fathers doorstep (December 25th, 2020) was exactly the right time (whilst practically being quite an inconvenient time).

Hospitalised with "long" covid between July and October, I had turned over a new leaf mentally.  My body dysmorphia had subsided to the point where I no longer cared about my pallid androgynous ugliness.  My mind was cleared and thoughts had returned to the poetic.

Despite my (albeit unexpected) joy at seeing Steven in the flesh, he seemed much less receptive.  It turned out we were contractually still bound to a reggae project together, entitled Spliff Riddims.

Our previous Spliff Riddims release (from 2012) had made a "major comeback" financially - accruing several digital sales (known in the industry as digisales) within a two week period. Business-savvy as ever, the brain behind the band now known simply as TIFG, Wicked (alongside, begrudingly, his lackey Robert Heart Jnr) was chomping at the bit to release more music to fill this re-emerging market.

In December 2019, I couldn't have imagined ever making music again but, a year later, the prospect thrilled me!  The thick-slather of pride that came knowing these professional musicians wanted my contribution again certainly resurrected some mojo - spirits were higher than they had been in recent memory (since possibly - dare I admit it - the glory days of An Angel Called Lucifer?)

So on Christmas Day 2020 I found myself riding shotgun back down south, Mr (or should that be Maestro?) Steven Wicked at the wheel of a very impressive car!

[I here must apologise, again, to my long-suffering blood relatives for abandoning them on Jesus' Special Day. Since his days studying under Master McWren, Steven has refused to acknowledge December 25th as a public holiday; consequently it was the only day he was available to collect me]

Steven gratiously put me up in a (very fancy!) B&B just outside of Swinton for several days before we crossed the mythic border - where my homeland ends and that Great Mistress England begins.

After a fourth night alone [I must confess: around Day 3, scared I'd been forgotten, my panic attacks of old returned with increasing ferocity - needless to say I was being a dafty!!] my collaborator, inspiration and "bonne ammiee" (French = "best bud") reappeared for the final leg of the journey.

Returning to the Bowels Of The Basement studio did bring mixed emotions; so many bad bad times were had in those latter days of 2013.  Predictably, bullish colleague Robert did his best to undermine my abilities - his vitriolic attacks weren't completely without merit however.  I hadn't realised we'd be going straight into a recording situation, so picking up drumsticks for the first time in years was intimidating.  Plus I'd forgotten how reggae was meant to sound.

Once the stylistic intentions were ironed out, we completed an albums-worth of songs within a couple of hours [lo and behold, the talent never went away!] and I was permitted my old bed (how I'd missed staring up at that dripping boiler!) in Steven's grandma's basement.  She was as lovely as ever! [although didn't remember me, oddly?]

~ ~ ~

Herein lies another announcement: Yes, we recorded an entire ALBUM that day! 

As of today only a single has been released (for marketing technicalities beyond me) but I will keep you updated when I have details on the album release date.

A second Spliff Riddims album!  Blessed times indeed 💚

~ ~ ~

In a flurry of activity I added the instruments I remembered how to play and oversaw the mixing process.  Unless my memory has degraded to an extent further than my doctors expect, all the recording technology appears to have changed since 2013?  I spent several years attempting ― through magic, herbs and group-think ― to erase all memories of electricity; so it's possible this did work after all?!

Engineering Steven and Robert's demands was a challenge, especially with their heavy imbibing of illicit substances.  Substances I myself have now abandoned.  I was led to believe [in some brief small-talk Steven engaged in during our nine-hour journey] that the two were recently sober.

But akin to method actors diving into their role whole-heartedly, my musical brothers insisted authenticity could only be achieved through chemical alteration.  I agreed.  In hindsight I am thankful they kept me at arms-length for the whole process of recording.  Illegal drugs and me can no longer mix and I presume they must have known that.

~ ~ ~

The musical work had been finished within a few days of that initial session but it was agreed I should remain on-hand for a week or so in case needed.  Unfortunately the English government enforced another pandemic-lockdown, resulting in three months isolation in the aforementioned basement.  Food and drink were left outside daily (Steven's grandma?) and once every two weeks I was permitted a video-call with Dr. Carol.

It is testament to the excellent work of my psychologists that those days between January and March found me mentally capable enough to survive.  No natural light, no human interaction and an incessant drip-drip-drip which become swiftly tiresome!

Each day began with the possibility [and hope] I may be required to record my friend Steven (or even foe, Robert!)  Although that rarely came to pass, I occupied myself happily(!!) with drawing, solitaire and writing imaginary songs, each at tempo with the leaking boiler.

I was needed twice over the months to correct some pitch issues and insert some monologues - both quick jobs.  My first interaction-proper came towards the end of March when Robert opened the door to my defacto-prison, presenting me with a coach ticket to Aberdeen.

Despite our disagreements as musicians and humans, it was nice to see Robert that day.  He looked almost shocked to see me in one piece!  Telling me he had "been aware" of my "problems" he was "glad I felt happier as a woman."  It was a nice thing to say and I appreciated it both then and now.***

Steven, Rory (male) and Robert

 

These pictures were taken on the day in 2013 a new contract was drawn up determining the future of The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis and other TIFG-Projects revenue splits. Robert's successful distraction technique (pictured) resulted in me failing to read the contract I then signed (pictured). In short, as Steven was seemingly aware of and uncomfortable with (pictured), the contract shafted me. On the plus it retained my equal involvement with Spliff Riddims!

 

So therein lies the first part of this lengthy update.  An arrival coinciding not with the release of Spliff Riddims 'A Warning' single (as originally intended had I internet access) but, as eagle-eyed TIFG-Project fans will have noticed, upon the release of ANOTHER NEW RELEASE!  More of that in my next blog...

I love you all and thank you for standing by me all these years.

I am back and better than ever!

I am Rory x

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

* To any of my family reading this: yes, your suspicions were true and I truly regret you finding this out here but I do not have the fortitude to admit these things to you in person for reasons that should be obvious.  Also I apologise for the "troubles" (those concerned know what I mean!)

** Sorry, once again, Dr. Murdock; I hope you are in better health now.

*** As you can only have been aware of my developments from this blog, I'll presume you are reading this and use this as a chance to say: thank you, Robert.  I know I was a wreck when we parted ways in 2013.  I strive to be better not just for me but for you as well.  Peace and love, always.

RIP Philip Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg

♥ ♥ ♥ RIP ♥ ♥ ♥

Philip Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg 192?-2021

With regrets and sadness I must respond to the death of our beloved "Prince" Philip (aka The Duke of Edinburgh).  This is a solomen occastion for all Scotsfolk.  I offer my condolensenses to Philip's wife, city and other loved ones.

The Virus has taken its most high profile victim but we must stay strong and continue to fight it.  I urge all readers to make sure they have a mask on at all times.  After many changes in my life (as of the last couple of months) I had been intending to return to this blog with new news.  But not this news.  Why this news?  Sad, sad news.

 

 

Here is my tribute (which I am making public domain to celebrate this most charitable of men)

 

Elegy for a fellow feminist

Touched by you

A century of us were

Humbled and dominated

But lovingly, as if free

A marriage intact

Gender roles flipped

You showed women

They could be King

It was his ambition all young able-bodied boys compete in various outdoor challenges so I would urge you donate money in memory of the dead Philip here: https://www.dofe.org/donate/

With love, R x

My Blog # 014 ~ Endless Apologies

As it began so it shall end...

Greetings Sisters of the One True Planet, Her Majestress, Mater Earth. (Peace be upon her.)

In light of the current global low-frequency CRISIS, I feel now is the time for honesty on my part. On everyone's parts.

Firstly I apologise for those who only know my online presence. I concede this aspect of myself has been in limited availability over the years. Due to the onset of brutal electromagnetic hypersensitivity I started suffering shortly after my last post, I have been distancing from ALL electricity for a long time now. I'm not sure how long exactly. My offline self has reaped the benefits however and - although still very unhappy in my skin day-to-day - I continue to sacrifice ego and know there is a larger plan for me. For us all. So despite unhappiness, also much happiness. Happy despite tears. Many many tears, irregular IBS and decreasing EHD. This first apology culminates in the announcement herein of the killing-off of this blog. This online self no-more. I had pondered doing so with the advent of EHD but THE VIRUS coming into the world has solidified this decision.

Bringing me to a second apology: I apologise for contributing to the birthing of THE VIRUS. My constant negativity towards myself, my planet, my life, has added to the net-negativity imposed by us all on One True Planet. I truly believe my own negativity to be "the straw that broke the camels black". Knowing the introduction of 5G technology was going to have a BAD impact on Mater Earth, what did I do? What did any of us do? I used EHD as an excuse to avoid using FIRE to destroy all transmitters of electricity. The grid MUST be brought down if we are to return to our Natural Self. I self-loath and in turn THE VIRUS wreaks revenge. As below so above and beyond, I imagine? Drawn beyond the lime of treason. Push my envelopes and watch me flap. Oh blinding FAITH.

A third and final statement of apology avec proof of guilt: I end my blog as it began. Poetry. Revisiting my diary on "The Day Of The Virus" these are the words written GMT0353 31/12/19. I repeat these words as a prayer to the Earth Goddess. Please all, disconnect from your technology and connect with your fellow HOMOS. Forever in utero. Down with the Grid.

Sisters o' sisters
O' Mater Earth
Knead and sow
Plow and furrow
And in celestial womb
Grow

Yester inform
Unknowingly learn
And yearn earnings o'
Morrow's harvest
Slowing hereafter
Too soon

Hillock from stream
Hydration form steam
To each her own
And owned alone
Through great tidings
Below

Festoon sunder
Ineffectual plunder
Buzzard's Hat
Rhyming this not that
In underlying everlasting
Feminism
 

Everlasting peace,
R x

Recreated Remastered

Goodbye, Keith.

Yesterday, Monday 11th December 2017, was a grave day.

With immense sorrow, the day literally no-one wanted to see, arrived. The day Keith "Cheggers" Chegwin died.

I can't believe it. So little time has passed but I feel compelled to lay down my feelings although still so raw, so painful.

Hearing his name on the radio yesterday my heart leapt. I assumed, as presumably we all did hearing his name on the news, that Our Keith was coming back to the screen. The big screen? The little screen? Perhaps the theatre? Panto surely?

No. Vae autem homini pulchra mortuus est.

It is at these darkest of times we question the Mother Spirit on High. How can such "evil" come to pass? The deepest of primal vibrations shake us to the core. Such a beautiful man. Taken. His family mourns, his friends mourn, all humanity mourns.

I loved Keith Chegwin. I never met him and it is with tears I shall not get to meet him on this plane of existence. However I know he is throned up on high and if I continue to lead a life of humble positivity, I may - the Gods willing - eventually meet him in spirit. I know I am not worthy, but I must try my hardest.

KC stood for honour, integrity, joviality, loyalty, excellence. He made us laugh, he made us think, and now - his final act - he made us cry.

I can only hope his final twitter post is a portent of a possible rebirth - a messianic call the 21st Century is waiting for, the true second coming. He who may return to guide us through the darker times to come in his absence. I, with the world, live in hope.

To end, the words of a fellow Scot:

Praise of a Man (Norman MacCraig)

He went through a company like a lamplighter –
see the dull minds, one after another,
begin to glow, to shed
a beneficent light.

He went through a company like
a knifegrinder – see the dull minds
scattering sparks of themselves,
becoming razory, becoming useful.

He went through a company
as himself. But now he's one
of the multitudinous company of the dead
where are no individuals.

The beneficent lights dim
but don't vanish. The razory edges
dull, but still cut. He's gone: but you can see
his tracks still, in the snow of the world.

RIP Keith.
Gone but NEVER forgotten.

R.

My Blog # 013 ~ et moi

#MeToo

A number sign and five letters. Yet so much anguish contained within.

With the wave of digitally-empowered LGBTQ sisters, now is also the time for me to come forward and tell of a time when I too fell victim to a sexual predator.

It was during my teenage years, back when I was inhabiting the body of a wee boy. [Edit: to clarify, I was at that time the said boy. Not, as some of you trolls have suggested, that I was perpetrating the crimes. Get real.]

I was a music enthused under-developed youngster, innocent to the ways of the world. That is: innocent to the wickedness all men possess within.

Consequently I was molested repeatedly by a musician I was working with around the years 2005-2006. I don't want to name names.

I have long been confused about this issue as at the time I was very receptive to the sexual attention and although not being able to admit it - because I was definitely not gay!!! - got pleasure and comfort from the "encounters."

The woman in me now understands this "affection" for what it really was: classic male manipulation. I was a victim of brain washing. I was brain washed into THINKING I was enjoying intimacy with another man. He was several months older than me so clearly I was a vulnerable target. It disgusts me.


This perpetrator fled to the other side of the country as I hit my 17th birthday. Could that be a coincidence? I'll let you be the judge of that!!!

Now admittedly we continued to have a friendship up until my recent gender revelation which was kind, humorous and gentle on his part. (Oh so easy to pretend from behind a keyboard!) And although there is no evidence of this perpetrator having committed crimes against any other, as all my victim-sisters out there will testify: all men should be treated guilty until proven innocent. In my eyes the lack of evidence just displays how cunning this man truly was and probably continues to be. Yes he is now "happily" married but I'm sure many cruel predators hide behind the appearance of stability marriage implies.

I can only hope that through my advice, no other trans-woman has to be subjected to the cruel manipulation of a man in their pre-re-gender-assigned teenage years.

I feel better for getting this off my breasts. And although I never did feel like a victim at any point up until recently, that isn't to say I wasn't one. I was unaware. Everyday I'm now revisiting the past and seeing where men have mistreated me.

One final warning sisters: do your best to wake up and smell the coffee. 99% of men cannot be trusted. Scientific evidence may not back this up but I have a proof greater than that of science. The fact is not only have I spent the majority of my life living with men, for the majority of my life I was one. So I know.

May the Gods bless and heal all the sisters who may now feel brave enough to come forward on social media. I love you all, stay strong, stay female.


R.
x

My Blog # 012 ~ a 'trans'-formation

It is official and I finally feel free of all inhibitions to talk openly with you: readers of the present and the future!


Hello, my name is Rory, a transgender female born into the body of a Scotsman in the last decade of the 20th Century. For years, like so many, I struggled with the skin I was in.

I couldn't understand why I never fitted in with other boys. Why despite definitely not being gay, post-puberty I was attracted to men. Why my poetic sensabilities were so forthcoming whilst my physical abilities as a drummer were so limited. Why my spatial awareness was so impaired. Why I craved peace not war...

I was always physically weaker than other boys. Mercilessly bullied for my "strange ways" throughout childhood and the majority of my twenties. I always loved cooking, sewing and bright colours. Always far more conscious of bodily and household cleanliness than seemed normal for a man. A truly torturous existence I lived. Until it all became clear.

I was raised in Thurso on the northern tip of Scotland, by my father. He always despised me and despite having encouraged me to take up the snare drum (the drum corps youth regiment was supposedly the easiest way to get into the army) he later decried me using those skills for rock and roll. Telling me music would lead to no good, I - then a teenage boy - ignored his warnings and went searching for fame and fortune as drummer and songwriter in an English rock trio (pah, the stupidity of man!) Father ultimately proved correct.

Upon returning to his abode several years back, I received the worst physical and verbal beatings I have ever experienced. I do not wish to call him out on these. They were for the best. They were what I needed. They led to the woman I am today. He always told me I was a "walloper" who needed "t' grow a set a' baws". "Yer a' gurl" had been his mantra my entire life and it was during a particularly gruelling fist-attack that his message finally hit home, so to speak.

Thanks to my amazing friends in the Thurso Wicca community who opened up my spiritual side consequently enabling me to engage in a deep understanding and acceptance of myself, that nascent thought "perhaps you are a girl?" took its course. By the time I moved to Cumbernauld a couple of years on, I was well and truly on course to being the independent woman who stands before you today. (Or should that be "sits before you today"? Ho ho!)

Perhaps if it wasn't for the gradually ever-more enlightened age we're living in, I'd have never realised I was a woman born into the body of a man. It is only looking back with hindsight on my previous life that events make sense. Puberty was particularly confusing for me. Thinking at the time I was supposed to be a man, it was very awkward when, as late as my twentith birthday, my testicles still hadn't dropped. Of course my body was attempting the unnatural! Eventually the testes were medically coaxed out by a doctor who queried the small nubbin of shaft and (comparatively) large bulb that was my 'todger' [Yorkshire term I picked up meaning penis]. I was severely teased by a couple of work colleagues (not mentioning any names) over many years that it looked more like a "large clit" [they however used a more vulgar phrase that - as a woman - I find incredibly offensive] than true male anatomy. Medically I was catagorised as suffering from the condition parva ipsum colem. I'm 100% convinced these issues and every other I ever experienced were all down to the fact my body was perpetually in an unnatural state.

We take technology for granted but it is scary to think that without the internet I would most likely not have been able to self-diagnose my transgender state. Would know nothing about my heroes Chelsea Manning, Jenna Talackova and Caitlyn Jenner, and very possibly have struggled on as an inadequate, confused man - no doubt committing suicide as (at best) a middle-aged drunkard. It is to the brave global transgender community I owe my life alongside Mother Earth, the Universal Goddesses of Truth, Forgiveness and Awareness and my Wiccan friends across Scotland and elsewhere (you know who you are!)

So it is now October 2017.

Ten months have passed since my acceptance of womanhood and by deed poll successfully my name and gender has been corrected. I have been on hormone therapy but my body hasn't taken too well to it thus far and there have been some frankly groteseque side-effects which led me to quit work before summer and continue to leave me mostly housebound. At least for the time being! That infinitely-deep well of faith keeps me positive.

To fans of my music, I am aware changing surname could entail confusion but I feel to truly enjoy the newly found emanicipation I must escape from a family name I have always disliked, both for its enunciation and evocation of buttocks. (One may have assumed I would take up my sometime pseudonym "McBrute" but this again is a brutal masculine sounding name I no longer wish to be associated with.) I will be updating all my promo pictures when I am healthy enough to do so and although the pitch of my voice has yet to change significantly, as it regains its true femininity I may just have one or two more songs in me yet! ;)

McBee was the nickname bestowed upon me by High Priestess Nigella S. Thringe during my first visit to Stromness in 2014 and in light of her tragic, unexpected passing last year, I thought I would honour her by making it my official surname. The fact Rory is a gender-neutral name explains why subconciously I've always liked it and felt like a 'Rory'. Kaitlyn on the other hand is both tribute to my favourite female wrestler and aforementioned Ms Jenner - whilst keeping the 'K' of my birth initials intact. Changing initials seemed quite honestly a step too far!

How am I finding life as a woman? So far so good! Mentally at least. Physically quite the opposite but it is very early days. I have at least joined up with the feminist society in Cumbernauld and next week hope to take part in the protest to put an end to ALL discrimination. It is the 21st Century, when will men learn their place? We women are not only going to show the chauvinist male pigs that we exist but (in the words of the Queen herself) "we rule the world"!*

We transgender females may yet not be fully accepted in Cumbernauld but we continue to fight the good fight of awareness and understanding (peacefully of course). If any of you have questions or doubts about your own transgender issues do contact me. I will be shortly publishing on this site my poetry as a woman - and in true humbleness I say it is FAR greater than anything conceived before my awakening - alongside more frequent updates about my new life.

And how to end this momentous update? A short prayer of course;

Mother Earth,
High Priestess Universe
I am born again.
Semblance in truth,
Femininity unbounded
You create and protect.
Womanhood creates,
And is life
So praise her.
In peace


I love you all,
R x


* To my wiccan sisters: like you I *do* condemn Beyoncé's bourgoise message but can't deny I find her lyrics empowering. I am speaking as a poet alongside a fan of music.

My inaugration

There is so much pain in the World. There is so much pain in each of us. Let us strive to see our true humanity. Let us not judge each other. Let love guide us - with the aide of Mother Earth and the Goddesses Justice and Peace - to see the inner light that shines within all. Despite the hatred that remains at the heart of all evil patriarchal political structures, the healing CAN and MUST come from women and the very few kind-natured men whom struggle in silence. Let us JOIN together. On this inaugration day, here is my INAUGRATION PRAYER (from the ever-inspirational Lady Caer Morganna):

"O Gracious Mother and Merciful Father,

We pray that you help the leaders of this world to have compassion in their hearts,

That you give them the wisdom to end the suffering caused by wars,

And the understanding that only through peace will we truly be happy;

We humbly ask you to guard and protect all of our brothers and sisters in the military,

And give comfort to their loved ones,

May you lead us from death to life,

From falsehood to truth,

Lead us from despair to hope,

From fear to trust,

Lead us from hate to love,

From war to peace,

Let peace fill our hearts, our world, our Universe;

Let our words be spoken in truth,

And our hearts show only love."

http://thewiccalife.blogspot.co.uk/2011/02/prayer-for-peace.html

An Awakening

The first day of a new year, the first day of a new me. An awakening has occured, please join me in The Lady's Prayer:

 ♀

Our Mother,

Who art amongst us,

Hallowed is Thy presence.

Our realm is here,

We sense Thee near,

On Earth, which is our living Heaven.

Teach us this day to bake our bread,

And accept us in our human-ness

As we accept each other, in spite of our limitations.

Lead us not into domination,

But empower us to freedom.

For ours is this Air, This Fire,

This Water, This Earth,

Forever and Ever.

Blessed Be.

In response to recent enquiries

Hello, it is Rory here. This is a very brief update regarding recent videos released by BOTB-Records (my old record label) which appear to show me as an active member of their roster.

To avoid any confusion, I state explicitly: I am no longer associated with ANY musical outfit. I am no longer active as a musician nor songwriter. I am no longer in contact with anyone currently working for, or with, BOTB-Records.

Without wanting to get into ANY details, it must be added: I receive no royalties for ANY work I have done throughout the years with ANY of my former bands NOR solo works released between 2006 and 2013. One day perhaps I shall embark on renewed legal proceedings to rectify this scandal however for the time being I am solely focussed on spreading positivity through my community with care work, spiritual meditation and various workshops.

I regretfully do not keep posted with this blog but wish to thank the few well-wishers over the years who I have encountered through it. I appreciate all those who were nice to me during my time as a musician however this is not who I am anymore nor what I want to be.

If you would still like to support me, I would urge you NOT under any circumstances to purchase ANY music bearing my name; rather I suggest a donation to one or more of the following:

Highland Hospice - http://highlandhospice.org
HomeAid - http://homeaid.org.uk
RNLI - http://rnli.org.uk
Samaritans Caithness - http://samaritans.org
The Pagan Federation - http://scottishpf.org

R.

ROMP!

EXPOSED

Thanks to Seamus24 for his/her support.

My Blog # 011

This is a very brief update for my fans.

I am currently snowed under with legal writs which may jeopardise my future musical career. I am also dealing with the police as for the past two weeks I have been receiving death threats: this is a plea for whoever has been sending them to stop, the house you are posting them to belongs to my father who has done nothing wrong.

The Gods willing, I hope to speak to you all soon bearing better news.
R

My Blog # 010 including information on Tory Boys

As prophicised in my previous blog, I have run into troubles releasing my latest album 'Tory Boys'. I am currently seeking legal help to get this resolved as quickly as possible. It seems despite being a co-owner of BOTB-Records subsidiary label 'tifg_projects' I have no freedom to release music ever again. I am appealing to try and move (what remains!) of my back-catalogue over to the main BOTB-Records label but there seems to be a conspiracy against me as nobody is replying to my requests. This is an incredibly angering time and I thank Eileen for her patience and my father for putting a roof over my head.

So what next? Well I suppose the most important thing is that you, the fan, are able to get a copy of 'Tory Boys'...

My Blog # 009 which includes an open letter to Mr. Glenn "Steve Wicked" Glenson and Mr. Robert "Bob" Heart.

Much as Jesus was shafted by Judas, Castro by Kennedy, Waters by Gilmour, several weeks ago a major injustice was served out. Although I haven't had any personal messages, I know all you fans will have been worried about my lack of web presence following this months incidents. Just to let you know, I am in good health, living back at my father's in Thurso. 

"Obsessive Possessive"

Obsessive
Possessive
Excessive
Depressive

Aggressive
Oppressive
Regressive
Recessive

Expressive
Progressive
Impressive
Successive

"Rationality Avoiding (A Mantra)"

These words were assembled from my draft lyrics for 'The Mantra'. I recorded a deeply emotive vocal take for that song (which subsequently got erased) however for Recreated I returned to the original sombre, haunting, monotone vocal which is much more effective on what has become a much better song, 'Rationality Avoiding'. Hopefully this will be a future single from the album.

---

Rationality Avoiding (A Mantra)

The night grew cold about an hour ago
Unless I've been asleep much longer

You come in my room
The orange light grew
Then I first thought I saw you there

In limelight we all know
(In limelight) all there is to know
Then you came back

All alone, I'm all alone
Rationality avoiding

The night grew cold about an hour ago
Unless I've been asleep much longer
Rationality avoiding

In limelight we all know,
All there is to know

Rationality avoiding...

"Tory Boys"

This is a song about why I had to leave the destructive environment that was The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis.  It's dedicated to two former work colleagues; I hope they take this to heart.


Tory-Boy  [taw-ee boi], noun

1. one having a false or unrealistic belief or opinion.
2. Psychiatry. one who maintains fixed false beliefs even when confronted with facts, usually as a result of mental illness.
3. delusional.

---

Tory Boys

So you thought your words could blind over truth
I tell you yes, but it's only worked on you
And what of things that were promised all along
Out-dated expressions rely on nothing without song

My heartfelt meanings went straight over your head
The way you operate is akin with being stone dead
I have more intelligence than the both of you combined
And when my sounds are heard you'll realise you're totally blind

I turn the page and blow your sounds off the chart
My incredible direction leaves yours a stale art
No holding me back because this talent can't be contained
And the refrain? You'll be singing it 'till your dying day

Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise

The hypercondriacs were you all along
I suffered in misery for your lousy songs
Listen up: this is what you're missing
My sounds are fresh and bold: no dismissing

Taking the rhythms and tunes up a notch
My lyrical flow isn't half what you got
Acting all G when it's you who were not
The masters of rhyme more spineless bastards
Quentin Blake proved I could do this
Slippery Elm proved you were shit  
When telling me I was too white to write rap
You couldn't foresee coming this mighty bitch slap

Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise

You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise
Your life's a comprimise
Because you can't chastise
My talented reprise
Suck on my talent guys!

Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise

I'm the greatest
I'm the best
My name is Rory
Through envy you detest me!

"I Smell Brown"

Here's the first song I have written since deciding to leave The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis. It is in a similar vain to a song I wrote which was subsequently titled 'Texas Is Friggin' Great' and released as a single, much to my dismay. I was very unhappy with the gimmicky nature of those words and the performance of the vocals; with 'I Smell Brown' you can get a glimpse at what I intended. I think you'll agree it's a huge improvement.

---

I Smell Brown

I smell brown - all around
It's time for a fresh sound in this town
Ticking clock - crusty sock?
There'll be no slander this time around!
Five to one - one in three
The odds were stacked against me
But I fought - thick and thin
I'm off the booze now, I got that from my system!
Who knew - you fools
I'd succeed and leave you wasted in the gutter
Can't you tell - you're going to hell
The Gods on my side and we're laughing at your fate now
Save the world - save the poor
My message clear now I've grown up right and proper
Life was grim - sick on chin
I hit the bottom and survived it for the better
I got to say - I hate the gays
I don't care what you bring up in my past
You say what? - you cannot stop
I'm on another level here's what I've got to say:

As time goes by from sea to sand
We roll with punches, we farm the land
A cuckoo nesting feeds on salt
Rhyme or reason, without fault
My humble message spreads the word
Of God and lovers, friend and foe
Run with me
Save the bee
The planet's weeping can't you see?

Catharsis

I have no words,
Only sound
Now.