lost elation

Ridgwell

Category: Artwork

notes from the underground – hand job anthology

Lit Fiends of the world take heed. A small press revolution is currently underway and even I – the Head Honcho lit fiend – am finding it hard to keep up with the strange and new publications flying through the letterbox of Ranchlette Ridgwell at an ever increasing rate of doormat thuds! So jump from beneath that spunk-stained and foundation marked duvet, light up a roach from the congested ashtray lying on your bedside table, grab the half empty can of fosters next to said ashtray, take a swig, and feast your mince pies on the wonderful Hand Job Zine Anthology published by Hi-Vis press and available to order here: Hi Vis Press

The construction of the book is worth the price alone and the press and the zine have come up with something totally unique and original! it has to be seen to appreciate the  craftsmanship involved.

And what of the writing, poetry and artwork contained within, I hear you mumble. Lit Fiend gold dust is what’s inside and the line up is a stellar one. But I’m not going to name names or give you a freebie glimpse. No, to achieve that mind-bending aim you’ll have to buy a copy. And move fast or forever feel left out in the literary cold like a dry lunch.

It’s all happening! With the anthology came a copy of the review zine Urban F – courtesy of the Queen of the Underground – Abbie Foxton. Inside it’s small press review city – with an excellent review of my road novel – Burrito Deluxe

And there’s more – more zines, Razur Cuts, Glove & Con to name but a few!

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The roll call of small press publishers reads like a who’s who of the global small press world.

Suitably impressed? I should think so you depraved bibliophiles. Now start pumping those paypal buttons like an amaze-balled sex maniac!

Tug Boat Champions. Blink and you’ll miss this Super 8mm stunner from the Fourth Emergency Service’s Top Gun room. Uno, dos, one, two, tres, quatro. Matty told Hatty about a thing she saw. Had two big horns and a wooly jaw. Wooly bully, wooly bully
Wooly bully, wooly bully, wooly bully…

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Lit Fiend mail continued…

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Lit Fiend Mail…Don’t cha just love it!

If any of you fiends want one of these Poems For All Saturday Night Specials then get in touch via the contact page of this site, or email, or shitter, or some other way. Just don’t go turning up at the door of Ranchlette Ridgwell as, like Greta Garbo, I want to be alone.

Just in case some of you fruits are not hip to the size of these fuckers then see the pic below which will give you a little illumination, via a size contrast. I mean, some of you might think they are an eight hundred page weighty tome, you know like the ones the mainstream keep pumping out at the moment that nobody reads! Mainstream, we, the readers just do not have the attention span or even the capability to read such lengthy books. You should have learned that from Moby Dick, or Clarissa – the History of a Young Lady – by Samuel Richardson. Just one look at those meaty fuckers is enough to induce instant myopia.

Anyway – here’s the pic…

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Milk Race Fanatics. I’ll admit I’ve starved you bunch of perverted wankers. But keep with me and stay sane. Now, check out this Super 8mm eyeball cruncher!

50s-vintage

Welcome to Jamaica…

Ok, I know what ya saying. Ridgwell’s taking the piss with all this lit fiend shit.He’s seriously starting to get on our nerves. Why don’t he just shut the fuck up and stop bragging? Well, what can I say, it never rains, but it pours! But Dave my beleaguered and overworked postie saved the best for last. And this time he refused to even knock on my door, but instead left the literary package with my neighbour, Stella. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Ridgwell’s neighbour is named after his favourite beer? But it’s all true!

So here it is – all the way from the a tiny little rock in the Mediterranean – Jamaica. Feast your eyes on this beauty and get turned on by a book! All other small presses’s look away now, as you don’t want to suffer an acute attack of the green-eyed monster blues.

Now fiends, start pumping those paypal buttons. To order a copy of this limited edition literary number go here: pig ear press

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Jamaica – think Montego Bay – like rum served on a silver tray. Think Ronnie and yours truly having another mad adventure in an exotic location. Think also of Bobby Bloom and Glenn Gould who never went to Nice. Now check out this amazing video to get you in the Montego Bay mood! Obviously no expense was spared in the production of this film. Check out the funky dancers on the river bank. Far fucking out!

Milk Race Fans  – The Fourth Emergency Service is back in business. So you crazy screwballs zone your perverted optics on this super 8mm! One, two, three, strip!

strip

 

 

Lit Fiend Mail Continued…

Fuck it, hardly a day goes by without more lit fiend mail arriving at Ranchlette Ridgwell, and more arrived today in the form of this handsome and most extravagantly produced journal. Copies of the journal are available in various art exhibitions in the People’s Republic of Derry or the Emerald Isle to you and me. Or you can go to their website for a copy, gratis, but also electronic. Abridged

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Strangely not everyone is happy at this stream of never-ending mail. Dave the Postie for one.

‘My bag is getting heavier and heavier, have these people never heard of email?’

‘Dave,’ I said. ‘Email and anything electronic is anathema to these people. They deal purely in the printed page.’

‘Well, d’ya think ya might be moving anytime soon?’

‘No.’

‘Shit.’

Anyway, like I always say if ya don’t like your job then stop whinging and quit the fucker.Check the bio below to get some info on what I’m up to writing wise.

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Milk Race Fans. Take a day off. Really you guys and girls are too much. Why not get out once in a while, get some fresh air. Maybe even take in a little Times Square action.

 Photos Of Times Square in The 1970s (13)

 

 

Lit Fiend Mail Continued…

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This time I didn’t even let Dave the Posite put the fucker through the letterbox as I knew the contents of my latest Lit Fiend package contained a fragile item. As soon the footsteps and rustling of envelopes and packages hit my shell-like I jumped out of my festering pit and threw open the door of Ranchlette Ridgwell with a determined flourish.

‘No!’ I bawled.

Strangely, it wasn’t Dave’s hang dog countenance that confronted me but the pretty feminine face of Caitlin the Postess – (Caitlin filled in whenever Dave was hungover, again.) Is there such thing as a Postess? You know like how some women refer to themselves as a Poetess. To clarify – no there isn’t – too many S’s for one thing. Actress maybe or Air-Hostess, as these have a nice ring to them, but Poetess sounds absurd and so does Postess. Anyway, I digress, I grabbed the package from Caitlin’s startled hand.

‘Beat ya to it,’ I said.

Caitlin eyed me oddly. ‘Aye,’ she said.

I slammed the door shut and ripped open the package. Inside was Issue 10 of Nottingham’s Handjob Zine, including a spoken word CD. I’ve been monitoring the progress of Handjob from it’s very conception, and have been impressed and even illuminated by it’s rapid development. Hand Job has nothing to do with wanking – and I always wonder about the state of people’s mind if that’s the first thing that pops into them- It’s called Handjob coz it’s made by hand! And issue 10 is bang on! I won’t reveal the contents – for you can buy a copy here: Hand Job Issue Ten

Jim Gibson and Sophie Pitchford have gone all out with this issue, and no doubt more established zines will be looking over their shoulder and wondering what they can do to stop Hand Job’s irrepressible charge to the summit of the Lit Zine world!

Joseph Ridgwell

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Edinburgh

Milk Race Fans. Una Dos Tres. It’s party time!

party time

 

The Counter-Culture – What is it?

 

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And who are they – the mainstream? Nobody knows and really nobody cares. Some fruits do things their way, while others do it theirs. Whatever floats ya boat as they say. And whichever way you look – it’s clique city in all directions, both underground and overground. Historically speaking the Counter Culture has been defined thus: A counter – culture is a subculture whose values and norms of behavior differ substantially from those of mainstream society, often in opposition to mainstream cultural mores.

The Beats were counter-culture, so were the Bohemians and the Romantics. But all that was a long time ago…

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This all brings me to the 2nd volume of the Blackheath Counter Cultural Review. Only 100 copies printed and most already sold. Move fast to get your hands on a copy here – blackheath books

Inside this pretty book you will find commentary on Beat Generation figures, poetry, Scottish Heretics, ruminations on the internet, and poetry – (including six of mine) short fiction and some F.A.B artwork. And if that ain’t enough to get you pumping those paypal buttons, then word on the lit vine is that this might be there very last blackheath production to see the light of day. All things must pass – as George Harrison once sung, and verily they must, for a rolling stone does indeed gather no moss

(Anyone wanting one of the skull and crossbones ashtrays seen in the pics – all I can say is seek and ye most certainly won’t find…)

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Milk Race Intellectuals. I’m here for ya, always. Think of me as the Fourth Emergency Service. Now you groovy wankers – zone ya optics on this Super 8MM eyeball cruncher! Grapes at the ready – Una, Dos, Tres – afternoon delight!

70's milk race

 

 

Lit Fiend Mail Continued – The Cross Part 2

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Cometh the hour, cometh the Postie!

Lit Fiend mail – don’t ya just love it!

Today Señor Sid the Mailman thrust – The Cross Part Two – through the door of Ranchlette Ridgwell without any due care and attention for the contents of the package. Royal Mail will be duly informed. The Cross Part 2 has just been published by Martin Appleby at Paper and Ink. The 2nd instalment in a three part series and which all you screwball lit fiends have been waiting for with baited breath while you squander the hours in cockroach infested bedsits all over the world! Well, it’s here and damned good it looks too. To order a copy – and be quick about it as there are only 50 copies in existence – go here:

The Cross Part 2

And it all started with Last Days of the Cross – seen here on the left. The Cross of course is long gone. Cleaned up and gentrified by a bunch of wealthy yet at the same time spiritually dead people. So even as I write these words – The Cross is a museum piece – a pean to a place and people that are – alas – no more. Some of them are even dead. It’s so long ago now that sometimes – in my darkest hours – I wonder if any of the events portrayed in the books took place and if I ever went to Australia. This is what happens when you set out to fictionalise your entire life – the lines between reality and fantasy begin to blur. Lit Fiends seeking to embark on a similar literary transportation – be warned – some of you might not make it back!

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Milk Race Avids – get behind the eight ball and feast your internet porn jaded optics on this 1970’s joystick! And no the pic isn’t fuzzy if that’s what you were thinking. You know what they say about bashing the bishop other than on your birthday! Maybe, just maybe, it’s time you sought professional help you sneaky bunch of wankers.

vintage