Once I tried dice-living!
Sort of anyway, in a half arsed kind of way that didn't really challenge anything fundamental. Still, I got up to some interesting stuff from time to time. One of these interesting things was to place an ad in the NME asking if there were any real dice people out there.
Appropriately, I got 6 replies. One was a girl from Sunderland called Lesley. One was a girl from Broadstairs in Kent, who would always send me a picture of her self that made her face impossible to see clearly. One was a guy who sent me a hugely long letter detailing his life and asking me for help and advice. One was an arty musician/performer called Stewart, who lived in Bristol. One was a guy called Neil, from Elgin in Scotland, who was young, precocious and into all sorts of new age weirdness. And there was one other of whom I remember nothing.
Neil from Elgin sent me something called BREAK YOUR FUCKING CHAINS amongst other things. I intend to do one of the things from the list but I'm not going to tell you which one, at least not yet.
I actually read The Dice Man in one go. A flatmate lent it to me, and I got half way through it at about 2 in the morning. I flipped a coin to decide whether to go to bed, or whether to finish it. Chance dictated that I read it that night, and I gave it back to my flatmate the next day. He didn't believe I had read it but I was able to answer questions like "What happened to Frank Osterflood" and "What was Jake and Arlene Ecstein's baby girl to be called?"
The book arrived in my life at a point where I thought I was desperate for change. Really it turned out that I wanted to stay the same for as long as I could. While I did some interesting things, I'd never put anything really challenging down as an option, and if I did, and the option came up, I'd disobay it without a qualm.