A Stretch In Limousin – RSVP

I have been back from the weekend retreat for less than 24 hours and I’m already stressed, miserable, broke and stressed. Very stressed. My weekend of meditation practice yielded neither enlightenment nor insight. I saw no blue lights. I saw no lights of any kind. I wept only once but it was a pathetic, self-indulgent weep and no one was there to see it. I did not levitate around the room. I did not find myself sitting in the warm pocket of God’s dressing gown. But – in reality – I did what I hoped I’d do: I made a start. I also met some genuinely lovely people and stayed in a very beautiful place, where it snowed.

I took some pictures. Here is a small selection – click for big…

A Buddhist hideaway in the middle of winter, in the middle of nowhere. Mobile phones switched off for the whole weekend. Imagine that...

Jesus walked on the water. Buddha sat on a frozen pond. If it is Buddha. Could be one of those who came after. Hmmm. If this weekend has taught me anything, it has taught me that I know bugger all about Buddhism...

Close-up of a face of a rather beautiful garden statue...

Just a few good apples remaining, clinging frozen to the branch, soon to fall to the earth and be devoured by death worms and bog weevils...

Twig, depth, perspective, rubbish background...

And I gasped at Nature's bounty, and I gawped at God's majesty, and all I could think was, this would make an incredibly difficult jigsaw puzzle...

You know, sometimes I wish I were a tree...

If I were a tree, however, I fear I would be a weeping willow presiding over a frozen pond, the face of a sad young girl staring up through the ice...

The footprints led to the middle of the field, where they came to an abrupt stop. Three drops of blood and a single jigsaw piece were all there was to show that they had ever been there. How did they die?

Snowblossom, snowblossom, how I envy thy peaceful resilience.

Life without the ready access to the internet attached to a decent-sized keyboard is tough. Nigh on impossible in fact. Someone had better give me an iPad before January 31st, or there’ll be trouble.

Right, quick update before I set off for this weekend’s Buddhist retreat. Or – if you like – now and Zen. Eh? No? Suit yourself.

There’s actually not that much to report sadly. The battle of the brands is proving a tough nut to crack. Virgin and Red Bull, for example, are proving awfully taciturn. But then even close personal friends have stopped returning emails. That’s right, Pip, I mean you. It’s got to the point where, if I wasn’t actually in the midst of a gargantuan emotional breakdown, I might be seriously thinking about giving up now. Phew.

There has been some good news, however. Kickstarter, the crowd-funding people, have accepted my project, and Matthew Carrozo, the emerging filmmaker, has accepted my plea to help me make a video. So on Monday I’ll be filmed making a further plea for funds, which I’ll then send to Kickstarter. Once that’s online, the very excellent Jared at Joobili is going to set up something similar on his website.

Then… well, then we see.

I costed the journey by the way, and I reckon, as it stands at the moment, without Richard Branson stepping in to help out, I need to find £48,000 – let’s call it £50,000. Although that’s quite a lot of money, it is pretty much exactly the figure I’d originally estimated so I’m not discouraged. Much. There will be a redoubling of efforts come Monday.

But for now, Buddhism.

Very shortly I’ll be setting out for Walsham le Willows, which sounds to me vaguely Satanic. That’s probably just the ‘le’, however, reminding me of Anton LaVey and the Church of Satan. I suppose it could equally remind me of Danny La Rue. But it doesn’t.

Anyhow, what I’m hoping is that this weekend will put me a little closer to the divine within, and that the divine within will have some good ideas about where I can get fifty grand. Wish me luck. Ooh, there are lows of minus four forecast for the weekend, and snow. The mortal within is very pleased I brought an extra sleeping bag.

Have a good weekend yourself, whatever it is you’re up to. Here’s a smiling Buddha to help you on your way.

Anon!

On Saturday afternoon – whilst walking between my mother’s house and my sister’s house in the rain with a little joint – I had an idea for a short story that I was so taken with, I started writing it as soon as I got home.

It’s late Sunday night at the moment and I’m 7,300 words in and one chapter from the end. It’s a ten-chapter short story, about Christmas, getting old and the internet. Of all things.

I don’t know how good it is but I’ve enjoyed writing it (which is usually a good sign) and it came so suddenly that it almost felt like it was a gift from the universe that it would have been churlish to refuse.

But the fact is, whilst I was doing that, there were other, it could be argued, more pressing tasks gathering dust. Two things in particular. One, an almost-finished novel that needs maybe a week’s worth of rewrites – which if tied up and sold could actually fund… Two: 71 days!

Seventy-one days!!!

At this particular moment in time, I’m deciding not to sweat it. There are lots of wheels in motion. I’ll be back to it later tomorrow. And if the worst does come to the worst, I’m currently thinking that I can get a loan – like a bank loan – for the first three months, and keep plugging away at sponsors as I go. Which would probably make a much more compelling narrative than if Wrigley’s suddenly got in touch and said, ‘Here. Have a hundred grand.’ (Still, if anyone from Wrigley’s is reading, please don’t let that put you off.)

Oh, and on the recommendation of @josieislost, I’m reading an excellent book called Dancing In the Streets: A History of Collective Joy by Barbara Ehrenreich. Look at it:

In the introduction I came across the phrase ‘collective effervescence’. I liked it so much, I bought the company. Well, not quite. But collectiveeffervescence.co.uk. I bought that. It’s a little arduous as urls go I guess, but pop it in your mouth for a moment – Collective Effervescence. It’s quite possibly the height of mellifluousness.

That’s all I’ve got. I’m done in.

How are you? Are you well?

Things are going well. Yesterday was excellent. Not only was there a small thrum of emails from some excellent people which were sweetly positive and made my gut glow with dreams, but also, to set the ball proper trundling, I’ve been granted access to ten European festivals, including the Berlin Festival, Exit Festival in Serbia, Castlepalooza in Tullamore and the Spirit of Burgas. Burgas is in Bulgaria apparently, and it looks like this…

!

At the moment, however, I’m slightly stuck trying to figure out what I should offer to potential investors on a ‘crowdfunding’ website called Kickstarter. Essentially, you outline your project, and then you offer rewards for would-be benefactors. I’ve been working on my rewards. So far I’ve got:

• copies of Sexy Beast, signed and highly personalised by the author
• copies of How To Be Free :: A Year In Search of Collective Effervescence – or whatever it ends up being called – signed and highly personalised copies by the author
• an acknowledgment in How To Be Free
• an acknowledgment in a copy of How To Be Free which has also been signed and highly personalised by the author
• the actual dedication in How To Be Free – this would be a one-off, and might not come cheap (signing and high-level personalisation thrown in)

This sadly, is where I start to dry up a bit. What about…

• an official programme from every festival I visit?
• the bracelet from every festival that issues them? (I don’t know – some people are into that kind of thing) People like me.

The investors at Kickstarter seem more like collaborators – they want to feel involved. Someone suggested I offer the reward of joining me at one of the events and hanging out with me. But I felt that that would make me into a repugnant blithering egomaniac. Or is that how I have to think now that I’m putting myself up for sale? No, I can’t.

So. If you have any other ideas of what I could give, please let me know.

Cheers!

Despite having received a definite offer of financial support for the festivals project, I reached a point today where I just thought what on earth am I doing? This is stupid. I think it’s mostly down to certain people not getting back to me. Not Red Bull so much as people I thought were on board. It feels like being unfollowed by people you like on Twitter. It feels like a kick in the neck.

But I have been offered a contribution towards the first three months of European festivals by Joobili.com in return for some copy for their website and a bit of promotion. It’s not carved in stone yet, and it’s not a great deal of cash as they’re only just a start-up, but it’s a definite boost.

I’ve also carried on writing to brands and PRs and whatnot, but I don’t know, I feel a little hopeless today. It’s probably got a lot to do with the onslaught of news about two really rather tedious rich people getting engaged. I am baffled as to why anyone would care. I mean, it actually seems that nobody in the real world does care, but the media has decreed that, care or not, we must drown in this shit for the foreseeable. Oh, and The iBeatles. Jesus. Why can’t people realise that me wanting to go round the world and write about people at festivals is so much more important than all of this? Why?!

Plus I haven’t had a cigarette for two days. Maybe that’s got something to do with it.

I’m hoping things will seem more positive tomorrow.

Oh, and that thing about me and Kate Middleton? And her being quite bitey down below? Totally true.

I spent the whole of today writing emails to people. Festival people, travel people and PR people. How can it take a person a whole day to write about 20 emails? I would like to say I was doing lots of other stuff too and I’m sure I must have been but I really can’t remember any of it.

I did have what might be a bit of a breakthrough today, however. But then again it might wither and die on the vine as many of these things tend to do, and I almost feel like I don’t want to mention it for fear of cursing it, but then if I start thinking like that I may as well start hopping over the cracks in the pavement and attaching bacon rind to my elbows.

So I’ll mention it.

I wrote to the people behind Joobili this morning. Joobili is a travel consumer site which basically finds things for people to do at any given time of year. A very friendly and encouraging chap called Jared wrote back to me and he said these words: ‘I want to do what I can to help you.’ Those are very beautiful words. He also said, ‘I don’t want to make any promises at this stage’, which are slightly less beautiful words, but… actually, maybe they’re not. I appreciate the lack of hogwash. I’m going to prepare something for Jared over the weekend. Then we’ll see.

So, early days, but a good sign.

Tonight I’m going out in Nottingham. I haven’t shaved for a couple of weeks and my mother says I look like a vagrant. She is unwittingly perspicacious. Last time I was out in Nottingham, I was young and didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. Neither did I care. Now I know. Wish me luck.

I wish you a joyful weekend full of emotional jollies and physical glee.

Anon!

The excitement of the last couple of days has died down. I’ve spent the day writing emails to people and joining forums and generally trying to get the word out, but I’m slightly flustered. My focus has gone fuzzy. Things – as in offers and suggestions – have slowed down, whereas time seems to have speeded up. Today flew by like a poorly aimed orange. And the plumber didn’t come to put the kitchen sink in. I’m livid. Imagine the drama when he finally does arrive.

Also today I was offered some work sub-editing on a magazine that I actually quite like at the beginning of February. I don’t like saying no to things, so for a second I was tempted. Then I pulled myself together and politely declined. It felt like a defining moment. Like I was saying to the universe, ‘Yes. That’s right. No matter what happens, I am definitely leaving this country on January 31st.’ And it was good.

One thing from last night: I asked Twitter if anyone knew anything about the No Mind Festival in Sweden, and an hour or so later, a chap who works there got in touch. Makes you think. What on earth did we do before the internet?

This is the No Mind festival here – what do you reckon?

I reckon it’s right up my alley.

Keep hope alive.

Anon!

I figure I should keep a daily (or thereabouts) record of where I am with the project, what progress I’ve made, failed to make or what have you.

So, yesterday at 3pm, I told the internet about my desire to travel the world visiting festivals and writing about the people I meet as I go. And the internet was almost unanimously encouraging and supportive. Which was heartening.

Furthermore, in terms of actual help, I have thus far received:

• 3 people offering to write something about the project
• 1 introduction to a PR lady who handles a number of international music festivals
• numerous suggestions for funding
• numerous suggestions for new festivals
• 1 promise of an inspirational story
• 1 promise of a contact at a festival in Malawi I’d never heard of
• 1 offer of the use of a holiday home in Crete

It was the last one that really moved me. Humans can be staggeringly kind to other humans they’ve never even met and it really is the most wonderful thing.

So it’s a good start. I’m pleased. But I suddenly feel I’ve got an awful lot to do and I’m starting to feel a little out of my depth. I need to write some letters. And I will be posting the first part of the itinerary later today.

As always, any thoughts, help, advice, warnings, do let me know.

Anon!

In August of 2010, after eight increasingly despondent months in my first proper full-time office job, I went to The Big Chill festival in Eastnor in Herefordshire and although it was neither the first nor the best festival I’d ever been to, it did have a profound effect on me.

On the first night there, I had a conversation with a man called Matt who was working on a hat stall. Selling hats. He told me he’d just come from a festival in Spain. Prior to that he’d been in Australia. Prior to that, somewhere else. South America maybe. This is what he did with his life: in the summer he toured the world with various festivals, selling hats; in the winter he went snow-boarding for a few months. ‘You’ve got it made,’ I told him. ‘Why don’t more people do that?’ I asked. He shrugged. ‘Maybe they just don’t know about it,’ he said.

Back in the office off Oxford Street, I gave this some thought. I reckoned for most people the idea of touring the world with festivals was probably as ludicrous and unrealistic a notion as running away to join the circus. Also, more important was the fact that most people were – for the most part – perfectly happy with their lives, enjoyed their jobs, loved their families and didn’t consider themselves trapped in a never-ending spiral of commuting, clock-watching and creeping death. But I did. I was becoming deeply unhappy.

Also, unlike everybody else I knew, I was in the unusual position of not having any responsibilities. In a way, wage slavery aside, I was actually free. I had no children, no wife, no relationship, no home, no job that I cared about and no debt that I couldn’t feasibly run away from. (I’m aware that there is a thin line between freedom and failure. In fact, it may be just a matter of semantics.) So, I quickly became convinced that I had an obligation to myself to take advantage of the freedom I had (while I still had it – I don’t want to be this free forever after all). What could I do with my life to make it more like that of the hat salesman I’d met? Something that wouldn’t involved selling hats, however.

And that’s how it started.

Over the next few weeks, I wrote a bunch of drafts of the proposal with which I would try to get an advance from a publisher for the eventual book. This (below) was the one I settled on (minus the Nelson Mandela joke, which had to go, for reasons of space). No advance has been forthcoming yet obviously, but I haven’t got all day. So I’m opening it up to the rest of the world. Here…

HOW TO BE FREE :: AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 CELEBRATIONS

A BIT ABOUT FREEDOM
Here in the West, we seem very proud of how free we are. We even have the audacity to refer to our tiny patch of the planet as ‘the Free World’, but how free are we really? While we’re about it, what is freedom? How do we define it? And how much – when all is said and done – does it cost? Do you have to have been locked up like Nelson Mandela to truly appreciate what freedom is? Does Mandela himself still appreciate it now that he’s been free for 20 years, or do we need to lock him up again for a while so he remembers how lucky he is?

The fact is, very few of us are actually free at all. No sooner are we yanked from the prison cell of the womb than we’re locked into the treadmill of nursery school, primary school, secondary school, big school and work. We might have a year or two travelling around spending our parents’ money if we’re lucky but most of us drift from learning to earning like there was never any other direction for our lives to take. And let’s face it, most of our jobs are dull, repetitive, unchallenging and miserable.

Added to which, before you really know what’s happening, you find yourself manacled to your life partner with mortgage repayments and a gaggle of grasping kids hanging over your head like the poised derrière of Damocles and suddenly, depressingly, freedom feels a million miles away. Consequently it becomes imperative that you seek it out and grab it wherever you can. Maybe you go on caravanning holidays. Maybe you swing. Maybe – excitingly – you combine the two. Or maybe you go to festivals.

If you happen to do the latter, you will know that festivals offer the opportunity of a taste of concentrated freedom like no other pastime on Earth. It’s the combination of dropping out of your daily routine into a roughly themed environment, ditching your responsibilities, getting out into the open air far away from home and mixing with thousands and thousands of other humans in pretty much exactly the same boat that has a tendency to change people. They come out of their shells. They let themselves off the lead. In short, they become free….

A BIT ABOUT ME
In 2010, aged 41, I started a job as a sub-editor on an extraordinarily tedious legal magazine. Within six months, I was 42 – ‘Voooom. What was that? That was your life, mate….’ – and frankly, I had reached breaking point. I started looking around for other options and in the same period I happened to visit a late summer festival where I was overwhelmed by the sense of freedom I found there. I realised that it was exactly what I’d been missing and it had a profound effect on me. I’d been to festivals before of course – better ones too – but perhaps never when I’d needed to quite so much – never before I’d felt quite so trapped and useless in my everyday life. Then the festival ended and I went home. But like Thelma and Louise before me, something had crossed over. I could never go back.

On returning to London after the festival, two things occurred to me. The first was that I was wasting my life in an office when other people were off being free. People like Matt, the guy I met at The Big Chill who travels the world selling straw hats in the summer and spends the winter months snowboarding in Canada. Where is he now? I wondered. Not hunched over a photocopier fighting an urge to poop in his editor’s handbag, that was for sure.

The second was that actually, unlike everybody else I knew, I was in the unusual position of not having any responsibilities. In a way, I already was free. I had no children, no wife, no relationship, no home, no job that I cared about and no debt that I couldn’t feasibly run away from. And suddenly, on realising this, I felt a duty, a responsibility, even a moral obligation to take advantage of the freedom I had and do something interesting with it. There is after all, a thin line between freedom and failure, and hopefully I wouldn’t always be quite so worryingly blank a human canvass. Hopefully one day I’d be tied down like everybody else. So my time was limited, and most probably running out fast. It was now or never.

So I made a start. I quit my job, gave a month’s notice on my flat and started trying to figure out exactly what I was going to do. Thankfully, all of a sudden, it seemed obvious, and festivals were the key. Festivals facilitate freedom in a way that nothing else does. This is my contention. They have a unique power to change people, even if it’s just for a short period of time. Which was why – in search of freedom, my own and other people’s – I decided to spend the whole of 2011 attending and participating in an exhaustive range of different kinds of festivals throughout the globe.

With a bit of luck and some astute and audacious blagging, I will visit 80 festivals in approximately 60 countries. Not just music festivals, but also religious festivals, creative festivals, ‘naughty’ festivals – essentially wherever people gather to drop out of their routines for a while and be free. Whilst on this journey, I will cultivate, investigate and celebrate human freedom. What becomes of people when the layers of responsibility are peeled away? Is freedom a universal desire? Is there something that unites headbangers in Copenhagen, artists in the Nevada desert, history buffs in Dorset and devout Hindus in Kuala Lumpur? Furthermore I will report upon it as I go, keeping an online diary and adding articles, photographs, interviews, videos and blog posts every day – except where prevented by poor technology, illness, incarceration or death. Then, when I get home, I will write a bestselling book about it.

A BIT ABOUT THE BOOK
The book will be a kind of Gonzo Pete McCarthy travelogue, affable and heart-warming, outrageous, dangerous, stupid, hair-raising, mind-blowing and ultimately enlightening. From beginning to end the whole project will be both participatory and interactive. For example, when I am at Nadam, the Mongolian wrestling festival, I will wrestle; when I am trekking up to the Batu Caves in Malaysia, I will have a pitcher on my head and skewers sticking in my back; and when I am at the Judy Garland Festival, I will befriend Dorothy.

The book will also be a kind of companion piece to Eat Pray Love, but obviously a slightly more butch version with lots of intrepid high jinks to offset the spirituality.

I am currently in the process of putting together a website and approaching various businesses for sponsorship. There is no reason that the whole year cannot be predominantly bankrolled by companies who wish to be associated with what will ultimately be a hugely rewarding project, commercially, critically, spiritually and commercially again.

Full itinerary available on request.

….

So there you go. I’ve got – as I may have mentioned – 83 days. I’d better get on. If you have any thoughts at all, please let me know in the comments or drop me an email.

Thanks.

A few days ago I showed a friend the finished proposal for this project. She emailed back: ‘There are way too many words down there. Way too many. Put your case in 100 words or prepare to fail.’ I was a bit upset by this, particularly as she hadn’t even bothered to read it. But then, maybe she had a point. Maybe, as it stood, most people wouldn’t read it.

So I gave it a shot. A 100-word pitch.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get very far. Instead, contemplating concision, I became sidetracked by thoughts of Twitter. What if I told people about the project in 140-character bursts instead? Might not that be as good a way as any to get the ball rolling? I decided it might. So I wrote it all up and set aside a day. The day was today. I’ve been tweeting for the last couple of hours. I’m just about finished. Below is the full ‘tweetscript’. (Ugh.)

• Dear Twitter. I recently had an idea for a life-changing adventure. I am going to tell you about it now. Gather. #fete11

• My aim is to visit 80 separate festivals in 60-ish countries in the space of one year. My aim is to begin on January 31st 2011. #fete11

• The project is currently called ‘How To Be Free :: Around the World In 80 Celebrations’. #fete11

• Whether it happens or not, the title will almost certainly change. #fete11

• It *will* happen. #fete11

• I will participate in gatherings where music, creativity, competition, desire, devotion & above all freedom are celebrated. #fete11

Holi - a festival of colour

• At present I have a list of around 100 potential events. It works out at 1.3 festivals a week for a year. So: part endurance… #fete11

• …part hectic journey into the heart of human happiness – discovering how disparate people all over the world let go & live… #fete11

• There will be blood. There will be music. There will be worship. There will be small Japanese men wrestling in loin-cloths. #fete11

• There will be bulls, tomatoes, wine & nudity. There will be fireworks, burning men & aurora borealis. There will be a website. #fete11

La Tomatina - a festival of tomato-based aggressiveness

• It will be a highly participatory affair. I will carry a phallus when required to do so…

Hounen Matsuri - Respect the Cock

…& I will skewer my face at Thaipusam. #fete11

• Maybe. It looks pretty nasty actually. Maybe I’ll give that one a miss. #fete11

Thaipusam - a festival of faith (and sadism)

• I will talk to people as I go. I will get to know them & I will film them & write about them. It will be fucking brilliant. #fete11

• Cheers! #fete11

• No, wait! There is a little more. Specifically, the ever-pressing muzzle of cold, hard reali Oh, what a ball-ache! #fete11

• The first question is usually: ‘Who’s going to pay for that?’ This is a very, very, *very* good question. #fete11

• I for one am skint. #fete11

• I guess the ideal answer is a) people with an interest in the project (and money) & b) the people who own the means… #fete11

• E.g. travel companies, festival organisers & sponsors. Primarily. If they were onboard, it’d be a doddle. #fete11

• Beyond that – & actually probably a much better answer – is that I really haven’t a clue. But for the moment, balls to money. #fete11

• I have 83 days to make it happen. I have given up my job & my flat & I’ve made a rough schedule. But in truth, I am ill-prepared. #fete11

• However, I don’t have time for editors to decide whether they like the idea or not. I like the idea. So I must begin it. #fete11

• If you like the idea too & would like to see it happen, letting other people know would – I’m sure – oil the wheels of Providence. #fete11

• But what I really need is feedback & ideas. Who should I talk to? Who should I approach for funding? How can I make this happen? #fete11

• I’ve got a list of my own but I’m not good at that stuff, so any thoughts at all would be massively appreciated. #fete11

• There are more details of the whole thing here if you’re keen. With daily updates. Hopefully. #fete11

• I’m afraid the time has come to rise above the fear of coming across as a ceaselessly self-publicising louse, & self-publicise. #fete11

• I need to plug myself at every opportunity. And not in a good way. #fete11

• If you have thoughts of more than 140 characters, please get in touch here: karlpwebster at gmail dot com. #fete11

• I’ve also created a hashtag. You may have noticed it. It’s here: #fete11 If you tweet anything pertinent, maybe you can use it. #fete11

• Finally, there will be those among you thinking, ‘Why on earth should I do anything to help you go on holiday for year?’ #fete11

• Well… #fete11

• There are many answers to that question. But you already know them. You’re free to do what you want. Any old time. #fete11

• Oh, there will also be a charity element. You can sponsor me. Or make me do things for money. DEC is my charity of choice. #fete11

• Apologies for the timeline onslaught, & thanks for reading if you did. If you want to help immediately…. #fete11

• …Please Retweet: Affable chap has 83 days to arrange year-long tour of 80 festivals: http://bit.ly/aRGoUL #fete11

• Or words to that effect. #fete11

• By the way, I found this quote at exactly the right time:

This may sound too simple, but is great in consequence. Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets: ‘Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!’

- WH MURRAY #fete11