Back again

Basically, it's hard to say how I live
If you read a few of my Capriccios Espaρoles, you'll see that in 1999 I lost a long-term girlfriend and job in the same week and moved to Spain to escape, forget, whatever — oh, and learn web design, that was it!

No, no, don't worry
This is no begging letter or sob-story. I was a pretty good programmer in a lucrative industry and, though mainframes don't pay like e-commerce, I was comfortable. The ex and I co-owned a place in London which brought in a little rent while I was in Spain but which we since had to sell to split the proceeds.

After that I briefly went back to work but that didn't last, then I went to Edinburgh with the last love of my life, and that didn't last (well, the love still lasts on this side, but what can you do?) and the programming market is pretty bleak, especially for an old git, so I'm 'working' from home and trying to find some way to raise the necessary to stay here — here now being Edinburgh.

Your heart bleeds for me, I can tell [but mine is irreparably broken, if that's any consolation].

Ironically, I worked harder in Spain on this stuff, the Tortillas, the Paintings and the damn novel than I ever did back home - and all for nowt

Which is all right because I'm an anarchist (hence these painful colours), nay a zen nihilist even ("Existential angst is for wimps who can't handle nihilist despair" — Fardel's Bear).
No, not the sort who wears black cloaks and throws bombs, quite a pacifistic, wet, liberal type: a fellow-traveller if you like. In fact it was Mike Harding who summed it up for me:
—— I agree with Pierre-Joseph Proudhon that All Property is Theft, but I have no bloody idea what to do about it.
In fact a colleague once asked me how I could call myself an anarchist while earning well over the average wage.
—— Simple, I said. - I fritter it all away.
And that's why there's so little in the bank now, no pension, nada ... but I am working on writings to turn Zen Nihilism into a lucrative popular and redemptive religion.

And why there are no sponsored links on this site. Any links there are, like this, to a really great hotel in Andalucia, are there because I like the people (and, in this case, Bobby, the Andalusian water dog) or whatever.

After coming back, I did write another book, for younger folk. It's utterly brilliant and very funny and has been turned down by more publishers than Harry Potter put together.
You can even see me reading it on YouTube

That was after moving to Edinburgh in pursuit of the aforementioned Celestial Nymph who decided to dispense with my services after three glorious years. So now I'm a lone anarchist, sitting here in my one bed flat, self-unemployed and lonely, frittering away my capital far too rapidly.

Lucidity Ltd has become a publisher — see more at Lucidity Books — producing a book of hilarious and moving poetry, some of which I performed to quiet acclaim at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Given the cost of publication (I need to sell 100 more to pay for printing) and Fringe performing and living, another career move like this will wipe me out completely.

Because yes, sadly, I do live in what people laughingly call, "the real world": a place where purveyors of food and drink seem impervious to libertarian theories of shared common wealth,

But I can manage, even if I don't end up doing any real work or designing a web page for you. If you like them enough, many of the paintings are for sale - make me an offer.

But if you enjoy yourself around this page and feel, in a lickspittle capitalist running dog (as we used to say in the 70's) kind of way, that you ought to recompense me for the work and your pleasure, then feel free to send any donations, however huge, via paypal or whatever, after dropping me a line (human contact is worth more than any cash). A bit of cloudfunding never did anyone any harm, and a patron who thinks I have something worth encouraging could do a lot to alleviate the stresses of keeping that bloody wolf away from the door.

Or maybe you're a rich widow with a strange desire to keep a starving but entertaining artist in the manner in which he'd like to be accustomed ... Perhaps even, like Tchaikovski's patron, Madame von Meck, you'd like to support me on condition that we never meet (highly advisable as I'm sure la Ninfa, la Frisada and especially la Japonesa will tell you).

Oh, I forgot - I haven't given any contact details have I?

Lots of love from Dai

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