The Opera

Things are progressing with the Opera. I now have a band who are enthusiastic about playing the music. I have a Director who is totally committed. We are now in the process of building up interest with a view to crowd funding the project.  We're working on an Audio book which will be a sort of  prequel to the opera story itself. The Director has written a load of short stories as  a taster. So if you fancy a bit of Vampire soft porn have a look here https://dreadfulthingsblog.wordpress.com/
Let me know what you think.
Meanwhile the band and I are working on themes and background music. Landscaping the Opera with sound. All sorts of things I never initially envisaged doing. In fact when I started writing the opera I never envisaged anything other than having a bit of personal fun doodling around with some ideas. Then it got serious and the real work started. If I had known then what i know now would I have even started? Thwere have been times when i would have said definitely NO. But as time goes on I'm quite proud of what we've achieved so far. Even if it never happens it's been interesting. If it does happen then all the better. I will have something to show for it.

Stop me and buy one

It's all change in the drugs world the Smack Crack and Cocaine Emporium has closed down and gone mobile, like a grocer who used to sell spuds and stuff off the back of a van. The need is still there, the demand is still high, the product needs shifting. Where the game is to stay one step ahead of the law, bricks and mortar are now so 2015, modern times require modern thinking. Deals on wheels. Dial-a-drug. Drugs delivered straight to your hand by a squadron of drones. Shoot 'em down and shoot it up. The police shooting nets into the air Spiderman style to bring down the drones.
I meet up with a friend who lives in a less well to do area of Liverpool. Over dinner he tells me of the Ice Cream man who everyday trawls up his road, except it's 9:30 at night and he's not playing "Popeye the sailor man" on his kiddy caller.  When he stops there's a queue of men at the counter and they aint walking away with 99s or Strawberry Mivvis either.
Here in Peterborough the definition of  "White Van Man" can have a different interpretation. Our White Van Mans van is immaculately clean. It's a Transit of course, a proper working mans van. It's even white. Except it carries no commercial load heavier than a few hundred grams. The dealer spends his days sitting outside the front of his new house on a kitchen chair mobile phone in one hand, fag in the other. people walk past they shout at him "alright?"
"Cushtie."
"Sweet. See ya later."
No one ever shouts "You got any gear?" they know better. Very few actually stop for a chat, just a  couple of words without even breaking step and the phone doesn't come away from our mans ear, as he seemlessly moves from conversation to "cushtie" back to conversation.
I had not seen Lurch in a while. He's the dealers 6 foot 8 accountant, whose job it is to advise people to pay. I ask my man about him.
"Oh he's banged up innee."
"What for? What did he do?"
"GBH."
"Not drugs?"
"Nah he's a smack head hisself but they wont ever find drugs on him. Fucking loads IN him. But not on him. No he went over the top and messed some guy up a bit, someone saw and called the police, he was nabbed whilst smacking the guy around a bit. Very unprofessional. if you're gonna do someone over you don't do it in the street fer chrissakes,  what a knob head, you go round their gaff dontcha? Fucking belt them in the privacy and comfort of their own home. They don't press charges because you know where they fucking live. That's how it works.  But fucking doin' someone over in the street is so sloppy. Even if they don't press charges there's still witnesses to violent public affray. He's not a pro. He's a fucking low life scum smack head tosser who gets free drugs for doing the dirty work. That's no  way to run a business. An' 'im up there gving him the drugs? 'Im wiv the White van? He thinks he's Mr Big fucking drug dealer. He's nothing and never will be anything. if he thinks the Police don't know he's still dealing .....Escobar he aint."
"So his new stop me and buy one scheme isn't going to work?"
"You can bet your boots the Police already know what he's doing and you know what? He'd probably make more money selling fucking ice cream, than he makes selling drugs. Except that would mean he'd actually have to do some bleedin work, and he aint the working kind."

Opportunity knocks. The Police hammer.

My man gets rolled by the Police.  A "friend" of his was walking past an ATM when she noticed a guy stick his card in and request £20. Someone called him and he went off to say hello leaving his card in the machine. She immediately snatched the £20 and left the card and wandered off down the road with her bonus double heroin voucher.  The guy turned round and went back to collect his money. It was already gone and he saw the woman and put two and two together, he shouted, she legged it, ducking down an alley she found her way to my mans house and hammered on the door. Thinking she'd lost the guy she went in. But reality with drug addicts is rarely in synch with actual reality. He saw her go in and called the Police.
In turn they are hammering on his door, ready to turn over his house.
In a way I feel sorry for my man because he does try hard to stay out of trouble but somehow, against all odds, trouble seems to find him. I look at him as he is telling me his story, can of Black Perla in hand, swaying slightly. he's back to wearing his combat gear; I guess summer is over. I gently shake my head in disbelief as he says "It always happens to me." But you know, I think he likes it that way. He lives on the edge, trouble finds him but he doesn't hide from it. he doesn't avoid trouble like normal people. His friends are all addicts, dealers or downright dodgy. Or a combination. He tells me he's been clean for the last fifteen years but I can name three occasions when he's plunged headfirst off the wagon. His most recent descent into drug fueled oblivion was with China White a particularly nasty drug.
Suddenly he looks up "Ahhh I know him. I'll see you later, gotta go." and he's off up the road chasing down some guy wearing Adidas leisure trousers, hoodie and a reversed baseball cap proclaiming "BOSS".