Jack Binding's Blog, page 4

Book Review: Pills By Jack Binding 5+ stars Wow!!! @jack_binding

Author, Kim Knight

Jesus. Just read it end of review!! This book right here is an experience to read. My only advice is, those who are offended easily, not partial to the odd swear word, a bit of sex, drugs and the like don’t disappoint yourself by picking up this book. Those who are open minded, get British humour and fans of yes STEPHEN KING this book is for you. I’m wasting no time, let’s get into this review.

Plot:

Well, this is an anthology of eighteen short stories. Some characters crop up more than once, and in that way some stories link. The first story is linked to the last story, and in the middle there are some links and random stories too.

My Review

Pills is a very clever anthology, with very clever writing. The way it links and at the same time has some disconnections within the stories is outstanding…

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Bouncers

Nice picture, eh?

Ah, it was free. Fuck you.

Anyway, I’m going out in Sydney tonight. It’s a rare thing for me these days. No longer am I the social butterfly I was in my twenties; I now prefer a night at home, my own (excellent choice of) music and a glass of decent Scotch. Also, circumstances change, you know. Things happen that make going out and either less appealing and/or less practical. Like the dog, for example. Lovely little mite, he is, but I can’t leave him in on his own too long. Plus, I’d rather hang out with that little bastard than most humans in the world, so it’s not like staying in is some great loss.

But tonight I am out.

An innocuous meal at some trendy burger place in a suburb I’ve only even passed through on the train. I get nervous going out in Sydney. I think it’s because of the bouncers.

The RSA laws kill me. RSA stands for Responsible Service of Alcohol. Basically, they put the onus for looking after that patrons’ safety onto the establishment, and consequently the staff … and that means the bouncers are particularly mean.

Now I’m used to UK drinking. I was once in a bar with a friend who downed a pint of lager, threw it up in the same glass and was served a black Sambuca by the friendly barman a few minutes later.

I suppose RSA was introduced in the guise of the government looking after its sick, cirossis-ridden, alcoholic citizens. And you can’t really argue with a government looking after the health of its people, right? Still, when you look at it a little closer, it’s one of the things (along with Sydney’s bizarre lockout laws) that has killed Sydney’s bar and club scene. Consequently, the vacant real estate has been developed into new build apartments for the the city’s now uber-healthy, affluent elite. And who made a shit-ton of $$$ of out those property deals? A bunch of dudes in the government.

But they were just looking after our health, right?

Ah, what am I gonna do?

But it does stress me out when I pull out my shiny Jeffery West Cuban heels, whack on ABBA and start to get ready for a night on the puke-free tiles. The other day, I walked past a bar in Kings Cross at 11pm on a Friday night. There was a queue of maybe fifty people trying to get in. Inside the bar – and it’s a big place – were around ten, seemingly sober, Ralph Lauren-clad punters. The bouncer turned away almost everyone who was trying to get in. It’s almost as if he didn’t have the savvy to realise that if the bar closed down the fat cunt would be out of a motherfucking job. 

But I didn’t care. I just went home to my dog.

Anyway, I’ve always had a bad relationship with bouncers. It’s nothing to do with Australia (although the laws do give the dumb bastards way too much power over here). I always wondered what sort of person does that for a living. Does a five year old kid wake up one morning and say, “Daddy, I want to be a doorman when I grow up.”

(Well, maybe in Stoke or something.)

Is it the bomber jackets?

Is it the free cocaine that they ‘confiscate’?

Or is it the small, feeling of power on a Friday night?

I suppose bouncers, to me, represent the lowest form of authority figure.

And I should confess that I’m a dick to them – I try to wind them up. I was once in a bar in Piccadilly, not having a particularly enjoyable time, and so I caught the bouncers eye and lit up a post-smoking ban cigarette. He strong-armed me to the door and banned me from the establishment, which has since become a rather nice sushi shop. Gave me a great excuse to fuck off home.

And then there was a time in The Provinces, when I was banned for a place because the barmaid didn’t like me and told the bouncer I wasn’t a very nice man. I was playing a gig that night, and they kind of had to let me stay ’til the end of the set. But after that, I was out. Strong-armed again. To my delight, they had yet to discover I’d pissed on the sofa in the dressing room, so one-nil to Jack, I suppose.

And that time I broke the bouncer’s nose kind of by accident … although perhaps that one deserves its own blog entry at some point.

You get the point. Me vs Them. Neither party is entirely virtuous.

Anyway, on the cusp of socialising right now. Normally I’d be making my way through bottle of something. But instead I’m blogging and playing with Lou, so when the bouncer looks me in the eye later tonight and says, (although it’s not really a question), “Have you been drinking today, Sir?” I can reply, “No, you cunt.”

See you later. Don’t wait up.

Non-Update

I have dropped the ball somewhat regarding social media and all that bullshit one has to do in order to promote one’s ‘brand’. The Twitter bots have been unfollowing me daily and my blog stats have declined a little.

C’est la vie.

That’s okay – I’ve had other things in my life.

The UK was … weird. As much as I miss my friends, family, decent clothes and bars where they will actually let you enjoy a drink, I was happy to return to Sydney. It’s easy here. Everybody isn’t furious like they are back home and the quality of life is a little better. But then the gruelling 25 hour flight made me ill, so I spent the last two weeks with the flu, which would’ve been fine, but since I had just taken almost a month off, I had to drag my ass into work regardless. I’m a conscientious motherfucker like that.

I missed Lucifer, although right now he’s annoying me so much that I’m considering turning him into a pair of dog-fur gloves (it is a chilly 12 degrees, after all). Or maybe a snood.

Have I done much in the way of writing?

Fuck no. The closest I have come to it recently was thinking Maybe I could write a detective novel whilst reading Stephen King’s Mr Mercedes.

I suppose writing Pills wiped me out for a while. I’m taking a little rest.

In other news: I have made a friend. This rarely happens to me, and as much as a joy it is to converse with someone and not want to stab their eyes out, I also find social invitations kind of a hassle. Such are the pitfalls of popularity. Sad emoticon.

Finally, to conclude my non-update, I have started listening to Rage Against The Machine a lot.

Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.

I am 12.

 

England Made Me

So here I am, back in the Motherland. The Old Country.

England.

I landed on Election Day. My jet lag that night saw me stay up for most of the results. Looked like Labour were going to smash it at about 1am, but by the following morning, the Conservatives had fucked it all up with a toxic combination of arrogance and stupidity. Now the country is looking down the barrel of a coalition with the DUP (homophobic, pro-life, creationist motherfuckers who are so utterly dumb, they think the world is 4000 years old and don’t believe in dinosaurs).

Good luck with those impending Brexit negotiations, you absolute fucking tools.

Anyway, welcome home.

Next up: Grenfell Tower.

79 dead at the last count.

Then Finsbury Park.

A reminder that not all terrorists have brown skin and shout ‘Allahu Akbar’, and that Farage and Hopkins etc. are basically hate preachers with with myWaitrose cards.

Vile.

Speaking of which, I had forgotten how much the Royal Family is on TV over here. The poor bastards from Grenfell Tower are being given £500 cash and, later £5k per family into their accounts whilst Her Maj totters around with a handbag worth more than that. And the disturbing news coming out that the fire was most likely down to cost-cutting in renovating the exterior of the building to make it easier on the eye for the affluent neighbours.

And right now Ascot races in on. Pricks in tops hats and one-way trips to the glue factory for Masie the Thoroughbred who had an awkward fall.

Fuck this.

Somewhere amongst all that bullshit, my short story collection, Pills came out. (Think it was the same day as the Comey testimony – FML.) People have been very kind about it, and it’s sold a few more copies that I thought it would. Check it out if you think this blog entry is too upbeat and you’re after something more miserable and profane.

But, really, Tweeting ‘Buy my new book’ whilst all this bullshit is going on makes me feel a little crass. And I may be an asshole, but I like to think that I’m an asshole with a bit of class, so other than calling Donald Trump a succession of rude names on Twitter (see – class), I kept my online presence relatively light.

One little pleasure was seeing my old friends. They’re still the same chain-smoking, hilarious bunch of people they always were. A short lunch turned into a 10-hour drinking session. It was like we’d never been apart. Beautiful.

I love my home and my country, but Christ, we’re fucking it up now.

At least booze is cheaper over here and they don’t mind serving you if you’re already pissed.

It’s Out

BOOM!

PILLS: 18 Short Stories is out.

200-odd pages of weird stories and cityscapes.

Psychotic children, ghosts, drugs that make you see certain horrible things, body horror and one about a guy waking up with no penis after he doesn’t pay for a happy ending.

It works nicely as a whole, and, quite frankly, I’m very proud of it.

If you’ve read Property, Dot Matrix, Perfect Anastasia or Twenty-Seven, you’ll know what you’re in for.

As another little promo thing, Perfect Anastasia, Dot Matrix and Twenty-Seven are all FREE today.

So if you’re unsure, download one of those guys for free and then buy Pills later when you’re convinced I’m an absolute fucking genius.

Still on the fence?

Here’s the preview …

PILLS COUNTDOWN – PERFECT ANASTASIA FREE FOR 5 DAYS

Next time I do a release, I’ll try to avoid it being around a UK general election. Sucks the wind out of my sails, somewhat.

“Hey, wanna buy my new book?”

“Argh! The world is exploding. Hung parliament! Brexit! Twitter!”

Etcetera.

I will persevere nonetheless.

(Also, I have jet lag from Sydney to London, so excuse me today).

Perfect Anastasia will be FREE Friday 9th June to Tuesday 13th June.

Perfect Anastasia is about drugs. It’s very dark and pretty scary. It also has one of my favourite creations – a character called Mags.

When I first wrote it, it was a vampire story, and it felt a little cliched. So I took out the pointy teeth and I made the exsanguination pretty weird and horrible and BAM! A complete little story about unrequited love and addiction.

It fits toward the more supernatural end of the stories in Pills (out 12th June, kids). I’ve never put this chap out for free before, so now’s your chance to download the fucker as a little appetiser before the main course out next week.

Right, I’m going back to bed.

 

PILLS COUNTDOWN – TWENTY-SEVEN FREE THIS WEEKEND

Yes, Pills: 18 Short Stories is out under 2 weeks (13th June, to be precise). So Twenty-Seven, my short story about fame and vanity, is FREE this weekend.

Twenty-Seven is one of my favourite stories. Perhaps because it’s rooted in truth. Real life events inspired the story. (Yeah, read it and then think about that.)

Seems I have spent more time than most surrounded by people hungry for fame. And it’s all really quite crass.

Fame was once a byproduct of society recognising talent. Now it’s a platform for cunts like Piers Morgan to forge weird careers so they don’t have to get a real job like the rest of us pathetic mortals.

In fact, fame is the main subject of the novel I’m working on right now (although that’s turning out so nasty, it makes Twenty-Seven seem like an Enid Blyton tale).

Twenty-Seven also has a lot of ties to other stories in Pills. Four or five of the characters pop up elsewhere. Shit gets connected.

So yeah. From Friday to Sunday, you can download that bastard for free.

Do it!

 

 

 

 

PILLS COUNTDOWN – PROPERTY FREE THIS WEEKEND

So yeah, it’s 19 days before my short story collection, Pills comes out, and the next of my pre-release weekend freebies is Property. It’s FREE from Saturday 27th May 2017 – Sunday 28th May 2017.

Property is one of the best short stories I have ever written.

Simple premise: A guy stuck on a tube train thinking about his life and how he’s trapped in it.

I returned home from work in my new build flat after a terrible train journey, necked a few shots of vodka and wrote it in an hour or two. It didn’t need much editing. There is was, raw and brutal.

People I know (friends, I suppose), have become angry at me after reading Property. It’s because of the twist. The twist creeps up on the reader and emotionally (not literally) guts them.

In that respect, I think it was pretty successful.

The reviews have been kind, too.

I was so possessed, so incensed when I stabbed those words out one harsh letter at a time, that it’s almost as though it was written by someone else.

It was the second short story I released on KDP. After the relative lightheartedness of Dot Matrix, I wondered whether it might be a commercial misstep to release something so dark. But I did it anyway, because the moment you start trying to second guess what your readership will like, it diminishes your work. Besides, if I was in this for the dollar, I’d be releasing books on how to write a novel, not actual works of fiction themselves.

Property is the first story in Pills (the collection follows a rough chronology). It sets the tone. Remarkably, it’s not the bleakest story in the collection (that’d be Sleeping Pills, probably).

It’s written in second person. People find it jarring. That’s the point. It’s also supposed to be uncomfortably close. You did this. You did that. And you’re like, ‘No I didn’t.’ But you did, because I wrote it.

And here’s a thing you probably didn’t know. It’s part of a trilogy. The other three stories are in Pills – Breeders and Standing Ovation. Which is a pretty good reason to pre-order, right?

Pray

Although you wouldn’t think so from my broad southern English accent, I spent much of my youth in Manchester. That’s where my mother is from, and where half of my relatives used to live (there are only three left – most are dead now). I have a deep love for the city and its people.

I’ve been to the Manchester Arena. Saw Morrissey there in 2004 (ironic). Franz Ferdinand were the support band, but I missed them because the girl I was with and I spent too long in the bar getting wrecked beforehand. The venue is huge and, considering its size, the atmosphere is incredible. Or was, I suppose.

I’m not going to trivialise things by crassly aligning my life history with a tragic event so you think I’m some sort of victim. I am not a victim; I have a nice, safe life.

But really, kids enjoying music. What could be more innocent? No, it upset me. And then things made me angry. Perhaps those things made me angry irrationally, but I don’t give a shit – an emotion is still an emotion whether it is rational or not.

So I will continue.

The armchair saints of the internet took to Twitter and soon this was trending:

#PrayForManchester

Oh, fuck off. Like some imaginary man in the sky is going to swoop down and make everything better? But you’ve just posted a tweet telling people to #Pray, so now all is good in the eyes of the Lord and you can get on with your little life and carry on with watching the new season of Suits or whatever bullshit you do to occupy your pathetic existence right?

 

#PrayForManchester

You’re telling me to #Pray. But what if I don’t believe in that crap? (And I adamantly don’t.) Am I now a #BadHumanBeing because I don’t want to #Pray? Are you somehow better than me because you have (or at least instructed others to)? Should I feel #Guilt for my cold, stony atheism?

And isn’t praying to all these different, fictional entities and getting on your fucking high horse about it part of the problem in the first place? If nobody believed in God, Allah or Mr. Smiley Face In The Sky, it’d be pretty hard to carry out some vile act in their name.

If anything, it’s less prayer that’s needed.

Doing things in the name of God is why we don’t have basic shit like marriage equality and the right for a woman to have an abortion whenever the fuck she chooses.

Perhaps I’ll try to start #SendGoodVibesToManchester trending, eh? Or maybe that’s a bit long for a hashtag.

Now, if it provides you with a little emotional comfort to believe some higher power is in control of everything, go ahead. I don’t want to take your beliefs away from you, but I don’t think bleating on about them on the back of dark news like the Manchester bombing does anyone any good.

People of the city coming together and opening their homes to victims and the help and love people gave each other that night. That’s what it is about. Not some twat that looks like Gandalf.

If you really feel bad about it and want to do something positive, you can donate a tenner here:

https://www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/westandtogethermanchester

And now I’ve just killed half my fan base, I’ll leave you there.

JB, signing off.

Pills Countdown – Dot Matrix Free this Weekend

Yes, the promo train has left the station. Choo fucking choo.

Pills out 13th June.

Dot Matrix is free this weekend. It’s one of the more lighthearted tales in Pills (despite its liberal use of the c-word).

It was the first thing I put on Amazon, and it was a scary experience. Paid off, though. People liked it. No accounting for taste, eh?

You might think it was based on my time working in the heart of London and some of the assholes I had to deal with on a daily basis. Yes, you might very well think that, but I couldn’t possibly comment.

I actually kind of miss working there. My body doesn’t, though. My BP was 160/110 when I finished up.

Trading it all for the relative calm of Sydney was the right decision. Do you know that in one of the companies I worked for they actually had a guy whose job it was to score coke and call girls for the clients? He quit. Breakdown.

Anyway, Dot Matrix is currently rocking a cool 4.7 stars on Amazon.com and 4.89 on Goodreads. Give it a go – it’s free. and if you think it’s too short, well, maybe you might meet some of the characters again in Pills. The ones that don’t die, that is.

Maybe you might even want to pre-order Pills. Now there’s a thought …