Right – enough about me, here are some interesting things:
His mother, Anne Beverley, found him dead in bed with his sleeping girlfriend in an apartment in Greenwich Village this morning.
There had been a party in the flat to celebrate Mr Vicious' release on $50,000 bail yesterday pending his trial for the murder of his former girlfriend, Nancy Spungen, last October.
The precise details of his death are unknown but party guests say Sid Vicious - real name John Simon Ritchie - took some heroin at midnight.
His mother, once a registered addict, said: "He knew the smack was pure and strong and took a lot less than usual."
From yesterday’s Guardian the woes of an unpublished writer:
The world is not against you. It's indifferent.
And something I found last month and meant to post, because it is a fantastic read: Bill Watterson’s speech to the 1990 graduating class of Kenyon College, Gambier Ohio.
Selling out is usually more a matter of buying in. Sell out, and you're really buying into someone else's system of values, rules and rewards.
The so-called "opportunity" I faced would have meant giving up my individual voice for that of a money-grubbing corporation. It would have meant my purpose in writing was to sell things, not say things. My pride in craft would be sacrificed to the efficiency of mass production and the work of assistants. Authorship would become committee decision. Creativity would become work for pay. Art would turn into commerce. In short, money was supposed to supply all the meaning I'd need.
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