Glen Strachan is a raging belljester, currently fronting new band Cruises to the Holy Land based in Cyprus.

05/03/17 Back in Straw Port, my studio in Cyprus now. Decided not to share much about my time in Athens, as it's my new home & I'd like to keep some things for myself. Also, my journal entries were pretty chaotic & indecipherable, but I did find the term Dance-floorgasm in there just now which is pretty cool. Greeks are so lazy, there was a girl who offered me anal in exchange for cleaning her apartment.. I declined of course, but was happy to help out, and we're friends, something I could do with in these days since the sky fell. I'm excited about getting back there, made some interesting contacts & it makes as much sense as anything I guess. Hard to believe how green it is in Cyprus now, must have been a lot of rainfall this past few months. Roses bloom at my doorstep. Time to reflect, time to move forward. My lowest point was Berlin, but I stuck around purely to plant a tiny little seed which may or not grow into a new life for me there someday, since the old is rotting in the compost. In Venice a guy stopped me in the street and said "I'm not gay or anything but you have a really beautiful smile" - I think it's safe to say that I'm no longer in possession of such a thing, but I feel some of that old magic returning, slowly. I won't, however, be putting the hedgehog slippers back on these tired feet just yet. 02/03/17 So far so good, Athens feels very right. Sunshine helps. Sunshine always helps, though often with tragic results in the long-term. Let's not be so easily fooled; now the business starts; now the work begins. Overhearing a conversation here, and understanding way more of it that I thought possible, get me back in that primary school for a gold star. Aw don't come in here you little silly-hoppy birdybaby, you'll never find your way out! Feathered frog of the trees, he's on my table eating off my plate, tiny tennis ball with wings. 02/03/17 Leaving Serbia today, sadly, because I can't do this forever and I'm spiralling gracelessly into monstrous debt & ill-health. Met some very curious folk, had some full-on moments, but I'm longing for my hedgehog slippers & the wine dark sea. Hitting up Athens first though, gonna move into a place there & build up a little Mediterranean world of 3 corners. Then Cyprus to receive William for a week. Life's a long ting. 01/03/17 I am such a weirdo. I don't eat. Gave up pretending I could have anything approaching a normal day, hitting the Stella, writing. Arm is shaky & weak. Two quotes from this John Irving book I'm reading. "Journeys end in lovers meeting" and "Behind every journey is a reason." Pretty sure I'm disproving both of those as another meaningless day goes by. That tram is less than green, somehow. The colours here are so Serbian. Aww bless these bar-babes, they knew I'd run out of battery & went out of their way to locate me an iPhone charger. Shitty melancholic Euro pop is the saddest heartbreaking shit when you're alone in life. 120 missed heartbeats per minute. Managed to stab myself in the thumb with my shattered iPhone screen, the gods won't throw up the likes of me again anytime soon. 01/03/17 Been here in Belgrade a couple days, still living in Berlin time, waking up late in the evening & dancing 'til the blurry morn. Seems there's no train to Athens from here after all (would take 35 hours to get to Thessaloniki!) but hesitating to book a flight for some reason, though I long to be home. Wherever that might be. Hung out with Berlin friends Anika & Louis, found some amazing bars, then Riley joined us, and it turns out that all four of us were in the same bar that night in Berlin 2011 when I first met Anika & we kissed without a word exchanged, and Lars came along slapping my ass with a rolled up newspaper while we continued: A fine way to meet a lifelong friend. Cafe hopping is kindof fun, I'm writing a lot, quickly deteriorates into bar haunting though doesn't it, and then body/soul annihilation. Girls here are indecently hot, it must be acknowledged, they just sit there being pretty though, and guys pick them off one by one, haven't seen anyone get refused yet. Bizarre, and yet really not my scene. What IS my scene, exactly? Getting so drunk until they play Prodigy, freaking the place out with dancing and falling over apparently, pretty critical. 27/02/17 What does a fish see through a fish-eye lens? Superfish vision. Can you turn the lens around & make a fish see the world as we do? This trip has been altogether a transformative affair, and I hunger to return to Cyprus & the sea in my new amphibious form. Rainfall must be danced for. All set to roll into Belgrade, got two dear friends here who have never met. Riley & Anika, it's almost time to introduce them. 27/02/17 Breakfast in the hotel lobby this morning was an interesting affair with some accusatory glances, some Hungarian salami. Last travel day today, just got aboard a train to Belgrade. Took out way too many Forints, what on Earth am I gonna do with these, it's ridiculous how many you get for 20 odd quid. That ruin bar district of Budapest has a lot of potential for a fresh band scene, but so many tourists, word spreads too quickly in the internet age, scenes never have time to gestate. I alone, it seems, am left alone to that! Why is the world in ruin? Have we never recovered from the world wars & fall of the socialist aftermath? Can we ever recover? What's your facial expression when you dance? 26/02/17 Walked into a tiny gallery & spoke with the owner, he in Hungarian, I in English, but regardless of this he recognised a fellow artist & called his wife down to translate for us. He wanted me to know that because of the violent history of this nation, he & his wife are afraid of the mass migrations and resulting anger that is spreading on both sides within previously close communities. They taught me some Hungarian words & I went on my way with an impression of his work upon me: deep, reservoir volumes of paint hemmed in on the canvas by wooden structures; black lakes walled-in with twine, something exhilarating. Said he'd cut me a deal. My phone screen has completely blacked out. I could still communicate with it via Siri if I hadn't changed her language to French the other week in a characteristically brilliant manoeuvre of incomparable inconvenience. 25/02/17 God will not let me sleep. It's one looper followed by ticket inspector after a looper. Pretty sure it's the same guy putting on different outfits. Hungarian dawn-landscape. What's this now, a female ticket inspector, why can't she be a perv like the others? But you know what, she did turn a blind eye, with a smile, to the fact I've trodden on two travel days with this trip but only marked one on my ticket, that's saved me over a hundred quid. SZOB - that's one straightforward name for a town. 25/02/17 Save for me & the loopers, it looks as though everyone else has a sleeping cabin in the carriages which are securely locked & guarded. I'm at the mercy of the mentalists. Just got woken up by some very light tapping on my ass, sat bolt upright, wide awake in an instant, yelling "Jesus Fucking Christ" to find some grinning idiot in my cabin asking if I want to join him for a cigarette. What's the deal there, was he testing how deeply I was sleeping before taking my phone, was he checking my back pocket for a wallet, did he wake me to hint at a 2am train toilet fuck or was he just lonely & felt justified in WAKING ME UP to join him for a cigarette? My advice to you, Sir, is to never take the international night train without reserving a secure sleeper cabin, there must be some unspoken code here. Or find the cost of freedom. Witching hour towns scroll by, the churches are of alien geometry, they shine. Where the fuck can you go to smoke on a train anyway, the toilet? Right. 25/02/17 Shit why do so many goddam freaks take these trains, it's barely midnight, I just tried to go to the loo and a 'couple' walked past me in the gangway, Christ only knows where they were going because it's the end of the train here, but I checked her out like a fool and that was it, she stopped and smiled at me, reached out her hand saying something in Czech (sounded like schoen in German) & I was so goddam English about it going "Cheers, no thanks though, nice one cheers yeah bye now" because, judging by the guy's reaction (he didn't so much as turn to look back at me) I think perhaps she might be a hooker & they're going to the end of the carriage for some sexual transaction. Or is that tremendously judgemental of me to think like that? The dude didn't want to show his face, what does that say about it? Anyway, welcome to Prague. They disappeared for 5mins & I hid myself away in my cabin behind closed curtain, she just walked back whispering "English! English" down the corridor, I'm keeping out of this one. There was also the case of an extremely drunk ticket inspector in Dresden, who could barely stand up & seemed to be propositioning me as he fell into my compartment. How very ungermanly! Might try get a Deutsche Bahn voucher or something to compensate for my outraged modesty. 25/02/17 This is gonna be some railroad challenge, a 13 hour overnight ride on an upright seat all the way from Berlin to Budapest. THIRTEEN HOURS. Kindof happy to get away though, despite having been tempted at the last minute to take the offer of a room from Daniel. 430 Euro, one bed apartment, pretty darling studio he's got there too. Next life perhaps. 25/02/17 It's incredibly hard to leave Berlin, it's all too sad, but the time has come to move on, rule them out, exactly a month since this sorry tale began. The road is long, and this has been woefully damaging. How did I get dragged down to these people's level? I am a one person people of Anotherland. 25/02/17 I started my yesterday as is becoming standard these days, woke up after very little sleep & headed down to Noisy studios in Friedrichshain, but they said I was too drunk & wouldn't give me a room! Utter bastards, I was completely sober, guess I've got some buzzing in my pupils now from circumstance & trials, smudged eyeliner high on lies, corrupted files. Anyway it all worked out for the best in a sense because I posted what happened on Facebook & love rival Daniel Brown invited me to use his studio in Neukolln and I don't have to pay for that. So.. thanks Noisy for being a bunch of bastards & saving me money as I've now a new routine & you're 20 a day down. 24/02/17 Last night was bizarre, I crashed a traditional German dress-up ballroom dance affair, in the name of carnival & masque, and ended up at Sage club which, every other day of the week, hosts the infamous Kitkat Klub. I've been to Sage very many times in the past but, since I was at Kitkat on Monday, I found it fascinating how they manage to light the place differently to draw the eye away from the gaudy gratuitousness of the sexclub vibe. Indeed I'd never even noticed the PVC beds & 'medical' stirrup chairs with footclamps & lordy knows what else before. Maybe I had thought it was just the standard obscure Berlin art-decor. A lot of people I run into in this town tell me they have some clothes of mine tucked away someplace. A skirt, a towel, a crop-top, a bra. Might go reconnaissance as Hatty could do with some threads. Met a guy almost 10 years ago in Shokoladen & we danced a few times at KDR, was in 8mm the night before with Muldoon & inquired if the trusty gent still worked there as they had a shot bearing his name on the board. Turns out he did, and would be on shift the next night, so as I was in the area again I popped in to say hey & was very flattered to find he recognised me immediately, and asked where my glasses were.. yes it was that long ago. What's that shitty club under the bridge at Jannowitzbrucke? Was the last place I saw through a lens, whatever it's called. 23/02/17 I am writing a lot of rubbish out here as I appear to have formed an addiction to holding a pen, but I've been in rehearsal space in Berlin every day, and one thing that is progressing much to my satisfaction is the Love Rivals catalogue. Well into writing 5 Love Rivals now, though 6 is still in production. Little sample here from brand new song Hatty Redfoot In A Rage: I will never dance like Hatty Redfoot on the stage, But I'm so glad I've never been around when Hatty Redfoot's in a rage, The kid's insane, And she's calling out our names, Are you present today? Yeah I know it must have happened, Found her blood matting my hair, But I don't have to take this shit - I wasn't even there. Speaking of which, I met up with Muldoon in town the other day, he's the guy who plays fellow murderer in the video for The Death of Simon Rowe. Ya should've seen the faces on the nearby customers when we laughed ourselves silly reminiscing about how we beat Simon Rowe to a pulp & strung him up to die. Turns out it was EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO! My. Word. 23/02/17 The previous page is pretty complete as a story ain't it, starting with cosy warning signs of getting too comfortable in hedgehog slippers, followed immediately by catastrophe & chaos, and a journey back toward reason & a new stability. Here's an amusing additional though, remember that bar in Montpellier where the barman jumped up on deck & conducted the packed room? Towards the end of the evening he was shouting "1995!!" and, though I knew he was clearly playing primarily mid-90s alternative hits, it hadn't clocked until then that EVERY song he played was from that year. Wellnow, I just bought something in Berlin & a coffee that came to 19.95 Euro, and both I and the cashier both simultaneously said "Good year!" and went on to reel off tons of amazing records that came out that year - of course I had something of an advantage having had the experience of the night last week, but now I'm writing this he's playing songs only from 1995, how weird a coincidence is that, twice in a week. Previous