I like my books to be the building blocks of a happier world. The last three with Chipmunka have been like that. Soundcloud Rain falsified the Nirvana barcode in music and signed it all over to so everyone can be involved. The Sunset Child proved the net existed in the imagination of a child before Berners-Lee invented it. Breath Trapped In Heaven let everything apart from love poems fall away in the hope that literature has started to release serotonin. This time, though, there is nothing. All I wanted to do was be tidy, my having recorded a new solo acoustic album whose lyrics are yet to be published, and having written some other new songs too. I did come across an idea: to write off the top of my head about my current situation with a New Beat no edits policy to discretely, discretely Tap the beck in the back garden here at my family home where the Plough alignment lives – but it was another person’s idea. I even went through with making it a text before I realised no that’s not me. There was also a kind of “proof” that I got to the end of and realised was my brother’s because it was signed by Einstein’s value for Light-speed (c). No it looks like I have no options except to say the faded, E comedown T-shirt from 2001 is better than monopolising indigenous wisdom in regimented metres. That is, I found my identity – I am still a song writer and can tell you I already have 4 recorded albums online. One was recorded on our drummer’s binaural earphones years ago in a band called The Flood, then there are three solo albums on my Soundcloud page (John F B Tucker) as “Playlists.” Herein there is only really the latest one of those – a recent solo acoustic album – because the lyrics to the others are published in the books I mentioned – plus