lost elation

Ridgwell

Category: Artwork

Ridgwell walks off into the sunset…

Lit Fiends of the world, now gather round and listen to my sad tale. I bet you’ve been wondering why there’s been so little activity on this site in recent months. I bet this anomaly has been playing on your mind day in and day out, keeping you awake at night, leading to recurring nightmares that there might never be another Ridgwell book ever again, and your lonely life in bedsitter land just won’t be worth living. Well fear not.  I’ve been busy writing, not surfing the web like countless other feeble-minded geeks. Man, they can’t stay away from the internet, they’re all saddled with a serious fucking monkey on their backs. In fact it’s bigger than a monkey, it’s a fucking gorilla, silverback an all. What happened to the days when people went out, you know like down the pub to have a chinwag with their mates whilst at the same time ogling the barmaids thrupenny bits? Anyway, I digress, for five years I’ve been blogging on this site and I think that most would agree that’s long enough for one man, even a man of my immense talent. That’s right, I’m calling it a day. Yes, there have been highs and lows, more highs than lows, but when the going gets tough the tough get the fuck out. The final straw that broke the weasel’s back was the revelation that readers of this site were now and again subject to capitalism’s most nauseous machination, that of the Advert. That’s right advertisements, marketing gimps polluting my site with their infantile sales gimmicks. Really, everyone involved in advertising must be retarded or something, with the lame duck ideas they bombard the unfortunate public with. Whatever it is you’ve got to sell I’m not interested.

Anyway, don’t believe me, watch the master in action.

I’ll let this site hang out in an obscure corner of the world wide web, floating on the information super highway like some weird Hubble bubble. Maybe I’ll even update the publications page once in a while. For more Ridgwell books are coming and coming soon, so don’t say you haven’t been warned and start saving those dollars, pounds, and pesos, and keep those sweaty fingers of yours hovering over those PayPal buttons.

2017 has been a quiet year for me publication wise, but 2018 promises to be a bumper year for Ridgwell books, and remember he who laughs last is the master. So now all that’s left to say is goodbye my fellow lit fiends, adios amigos, sayonara, adieu, so long, farewell, Toodle-pip. Yes, yes, you can watch as I walk off into the sunset, cold beer in hand, and a head full of dreams, wondering where the time goes and what will become of me. Sure we’ll meet again, it’s just I don’t know where and I don’t know when. Ah, weep not for me fellow literary comrades for I must continue on my lonely road, always seeking illuminations, always in search of the lost elation wherever he or she maybe. No. no, now now, there’s a good lit fiend, don’t cry, be a man or a woman, and hold your head up high….

Milk Race Fans – I know you’ll be weeping into your Kleenex, moved to tears because this is the last time you’ll get any Super 8mm action from old Ridgwell. Well. I’m afraid the time has come and remember nothing good lasts forever. But to compensate you for the void that now appears in your depraved and perverted little lives I’ve saved the best till last. Feast yours crazy screwball optics on this 4th Emergency Service Top Gun Room eyeball cruncher. Yes, here it is in all it’s legendary 8mm glory. The one and only, the pic everyone in the know talks about in hushed conspirator tones. Does it really exist? Of course if fucking does. Now una, dos, tres – Everybody’s got new clothes, makes me feel kinda old….

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And here’s a couple of pomes taken from my latest collection – Cosmic Gigantic Flywheel – publication of which is imminent, just like nuclear war between the States and North Korea is imminent. Hopefully it will remind you of the times we’re living in and no matter how bad things seems, hope is all you need to carry on. And remember do everything whilst young and don’t leave anything too late, for there’s nothing worse than too late!

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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The Edinburgh Inch Continued…

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These little treasures will be available to view, pick up, even take away from the Scottish Design Exchange tomorrow onwards. And while you’re there make sure to to browse their esoteric bookstore, which contains some of the more harder to find underground publications, books you most certainly will not find in Waterstones or WH Smith. And also check out all the other goodies they have on offer.

Joseph Ridgwell

Edinburgh

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!

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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