Debut.

I am of an immediate introduction to Blogger and already it has done a toilet on Livejournal, and its lavishly framed family tree [which was replaced by a version of itself; smashed, burnt and ground into the expensive carpet]. I begin with a digital photograph of Herne Bay's Yoghurt Club's rusty sea rails to remind me, and you, of a frustrated emotional ghetto that still exists in the present as it did in the past and I am thankful to UCAS, Manchester Metropolitan and the taxpayer for the rails to the city [see the path here?]. I must have a failsafe method of staying away after this degree dies, I am still to make a commitment.

My current project, a presentation based on research on a subject of your choice, involves the town. Initially, I was reading comics [including Dilbert, the Broons/Oor Wullie, Calvin and Hobbes and Viz] and making notes about visual storytelling and all that. I realised that I don't enjoy them as I used to, so I moved along to the point where abstract and expressive art blends fine and graphical art to make single frame comics full of life, colour and chaos. I wrote personal definitions of each category, drew many diagrammatic representations and still had no lust towards the subject. Books and website met rejection, concepts on flat paper became screwed up and slightly chewed balls of unappreciated laziness. The time had come to charge my digital camera.

Out we went. I did have to coax the snapping device from its bed at Hiver's house, but it wasn't too upset by the cold and the damp of Kentish January and eventually forgave me when I sung an improvised Fuji song. We went up Canterbury Road, over the New Thanet Way to Herne Cemetery, up past Strode Park to Broomfield Pond, then back over the Thanet Way via the Broomfield flyover to Beltinge, the Upper Downs, Bishopstone, Reculver, the Lower Downs and finally home to HQ. We gathered more the following day, many of which caught the Bay with its fog out.

I was inspired at first by a book that is full of historic photographs. I wanted to document HB06; today. I was also the history lessons shared by local musician Alex Williams on his band's website, found at www.thepsychoticreaction.co.uk. My intentions buckled under the fear of the moderately busy high street, too scared that people would think that I was a pervert or, worse still, know that I AM a pervert. I like to bear that in mind whenever I have my camera.

The photographs started as a means of showing the places of personal significance, the story triggers. As I am unsure as to the merit and benefit of such an exercise, I binned that idea as well. I toyed with inventing significii, that too backfired because the presentation that I imagined accompanying it would lack energy. I could record voice voiceovers, improvise, invent or mix the whole lot up. I could use music. I considered all of these things and let them all go. Since then, I have avoided thinking about the project too much and have instead read online opinions of the place and its 'pull factors'.

Now I am planning the persona of an assertive southern salesman, an orgy of daytime TV experts, a cocky young professional Mockney rep. He flinches once or twice throwing cocainer's clues. He is a living advert character. He uses 'urban' slang by accident, reflecting the motivational speeches of Tupac Shakur that he has committed to memory. He is a confident liar, a transparent host oblivious to his blatant bullshit. He's a little too much Nate Barley at present. He reflects the perfumed hunks at the phone shop, I will need to a shave, a haircut and some aftershave. No fake earring. His attire is a cheap version of success. His wideboy banter illuminates his head.

Layton Kinch? Dan Barnes? Nicholas Hooper? I am combining names from my schools. Personal experience; another form of research. He says things like these:

"What do YOU want from anoldiay?"
"Yep, yep, we can do that for ya."
"We've got that, yes."
"Loadsa that."
"Gentlemen. Ladies. Ladies. Stay where you are - you all comin' wiv me!"
"Show me some interest and I will show you your dreamoliday."
"Well, what sorta numbers you lookin ta spend?"
"Who needsanoliday then?"
"This is your lucky weekend folks!"
"Frowaway your foreign guides, lads. You're wastinyatime with Ibeefa. Avalook at what I've got to offer."

He blurts suggestive comments towards the birds. His business card blings, yet it is paper glued to card, with handmade charm 'out of water'. He could be the rapping rep. He may jog into the room flashing smiles with thumbs up. His mood is unstable and he considers himself a little bit of a maverick. He wants to be your aggressive best mate. He receives a mobile phone call during the presentation and destroys his poise by toning "ehlho baybe. I'm onna mission rite now, can't cease. What? The Astra? Bolluks mate! Thatsconnabe fowsahns!"

Let's just see...