Chauffeur Chronicles

So  I figured I like driving and meeting people. So I found the perfect job. So my days are spent grinding through the 405 freeway and swooshing through the canyons with A list celebrities in the back of the salubrious car. It’s strange, I seem to hold the sanctity of what goes on in the car in a higher regard than the rehab world. It’s a straightforward world. Although it like a video game, with the clock ticking on each job.

I had a great chat with a young actor, Oscar-nominated. I didn’t recognize him at first. But then the penny dropped. We both studied at Conservatoires. The discussion went into what it really takes to succeed, especially in show business. People tend to see the end result, which is a massive factor.

He said I should just go for the writing thing. How does one just go for it? I write. My book is out there in a sea of self-publishers. But I love to write. Do what you love, they say.

The universe will open up and throw petals on your way.

It’s hard right now. The Jaguar is in purgatory. The harpies in my head are laughing and say sell it. They don’t know what it means to me. Perhaps they do and that’s why they are tormenting me. But before I know it…a hundred dollar tip here and a forty dollar tip there and its on route to a mechanics bill.

The insurance company that was handling the debacle on Venice Boulevard called me. Debacle, because Secrets Recovery had failed to have me on the insurance. This was after a year of driving around high-risk clients. Yet another confirmation of the contents of the book. I was not insured. I was very detailed in my conversation with the agent and said that I would be willing to swear under oath my correct version of events that I describe in the book.

Click here to purchase Detoxic Secrets

Another day on the road, every day is getting easier. The airport is becoming less of a mystery. The supervisor pulled me aside and commended me on my performance in a short space of time. However it’s not dissimilar to Secrets. The difference is that the clients are not sick. Similar demographic. I am more than familiar with that world. lawyers, executives, and celebrities.

I was out of cycle with the payroll. So I am glad of the tips and grateful for just being able to get through another day.

The lawyer I picked up the other day was very cool. She had heard about the Coffee Bean Caper, the subject of my upcoming book, The Devil’s Slideshow. I explained that it is a story about redemption.

At present, surrounded by lycra with a whole gaggle of Studio City residents who have no sense of personal space as they trundle on with their continuous PR campaigns. I sip my coffee and admire the absurdity of the current exhibition. Hashtag environment, Hashtag bleeding hearts. Whales and trees made out of plastic flowers. Not sure if it is better than the Unicorn ejaculate of the last show.

Excerpt: The Devil’s Slideshow

Excerpt: The Devil’s Slideshow

‘Every word and illustration, every spelling mistake and grammatical anomaly is where it should be. I have come to understand that I am not an alcoholic. I spent a year working in a rehab center to discover corruption and greed that infects that industry. I am confident in writing. The process of writing this book has given me confidence, confidence in writing and the truth. There as many truths as there are people on this earth. My truths are simple. The happiness I feel is that I could die tomorrow and I feel like I have lived a full life. It has had many twists and turns.’

Pierre De Chambery

The Devil’s Slideshow

I brush through my new book. Just about to drop some illustrations in. I am happy with it and has naturally become part of the series. The Devil’s Slideshow will be available on Amazon and Kindle on the first of March.

A true story where I discover two hidden cameras in A Coffee Bean on Ventura Boulevard, which in turn leads to a series of unusual law suits.



Detoxic Secrets By Pierre De Chambery


Click for KINDLE



I guess its time to rise out of the ashes…its feels like everything has been honed down to essential parts. I come out writing …i come out fighting. The absurdity of life’s events have left me…well…in a whatever sort of mood.

The book is lagging. I knew it would. Its the way of the book…the other two are ‘divinely’ indifferent. The whole situation has prompted me to write a book. Like take some sort of control. Everything seems chaotic.

The Recovery center burnt down. I am on the bench. Although my boss hit me up to say that they are trying to swing me Vacation Pay as they don’t cover fire is the small print.

Its Sunday. I needed to get out. Just drive. Have a coffee and write. In a no shit taking mood right now. Just letting go and rolling with whatever comes my way. Self esteem …well… i need to work on that.

Ego…well what exactly is it…sounds like i am describing a separate thing. But perhaps that is the clue. The Ego believes in separate things.  That its delusion. Thats our delusion really. That we have all these things that separate us from other people. The cars we drive. The brand we promote, of ourselves. Perhaps when you meet a lover..then you realize on a certain level that there is no duality.

From the methhead to the oligarch …we are all under the same sky…we will all return to the same earth.

But to have a sense of self belief …say as an artist…where basically you are making it up as you go along. true art is in itself its own endorsement. Not really Sotheby’s.

And why is it when my back is against the wall…i produce good art.

i look around the cafe society today. Kind of indifferent to it. A guy sits on the opposite street, on a balcony, plucking his guitar…constantly looking over for verification by the clientele. This place is full of aspirations. laptops, people who look like people. people who sound like people.

Some spoilt little rich kids swans out his car eating a bowl of cereal .. i give him a glance…his little nerdy friend scoffs at some comment he made, perhaps about my hat. Both little geeky kids, the ones you know got picked on. They will be destined to become bullies in the world, when they grow up.

They come from a protected world..

Gee ain’t I cynical today. But as i said. I am on a trajectory right now. I am not drinking…then that trajectory would have an amplified arc. Back for lunch.  And just a note…putting on lycra and wearing sports shows does not make you thin…

perhaps its the sense of entitlement around here thats chewing on my nerves.

perhaps because i am deeply disappointed in the book I feel rudderless ..












So in this world of internet publishing I have decided to put this book together. Not a book of illustrations…but words…thats right actual characters strung together: an accumulation of the blogs, notes and e mails. With one selfish purpose. To figure out what the fuck is going on in my life.

Change a few names. Mask the identity of certain people…you know who you are. Change my name. Some French alter ego. Some guy who can survive. Some guy who can take the heat for this crazy life.

Is today typical? Well yes and no. I am doing some temp work for a large T shirt company. Social media. It’s going to be enough to coast through the next week or two. But lately I have been tired. Worn down by the location I have chosen to live in. Not the Bahamas, not the island paradise of Lombok, Indonesia, nor the tranquility of Scotland? No…I chose the most intense city in the world, Los Angeles.

The past month or two in particular, I feel like its got me by the balls. As you will read, through these pages. I have been through a lot. It takes a lot for me to say that. But then its all Jedi mind tricks…huh…Change the perception…then life’s actually …OK. I have a roof over my head. A band of friends. I am not in debt.

Outside is my Vintage Jag. A real beauty. She’s called Marilyn. Who needs a wife when you have one of these? i actually got laid in my Dodge Ram 250 Van more often. I think Marilyn is either jealous or has high standards.

She’s like Herbie…but is actually from Monte Carlo…just doesn’t visit there through tunnels and bridges. Classy bitch. Happy in Watts or Beverly Hills. I could write about her for days.

But the reality is that its a miracle if I can keep her in this financial climate. Precarious. Sell this book…I will give you it for a dollar…oh thats right…you already paid for it. So you are committed. You are in it for the long haul.

Its razors edge shit here. No safety net. I am an artist…like most artists, experienced good times with studios, commissions, openings, champaign and tears. I come from a very middle class family. Quite predictable in a way…quite safe in their outlook. They become the demons of normality when I have abnormal problems. They are all decent law abiding citizens and they will appear from time to time in the blog.


And this is the forward from Tibetan Lama


Hi there……

things may come and things may go,

but the art-school dance still goes on!

New job, new friends, new life & new you!


Past is gone

Past is dead

Try get that

In your head…….

Just think of this

Not what’s remiss.

Enjoy your life

Forget the wife

Just keep cookin’

Don’t keep lookin’

It’s all there

It’s everywhere

It’s here right now

Beneath furrowed brow!

Just do it right

And keep things tight

Its here and now

You have to bite

I’m sure you know

But just forgot

What you are


what you’re not

time for calm

time for peace

time for reflection

and a new direction

what more to say

you’re on your way

so enjoy the ride

this change of tide

allow some time

for jazz and mime!

as things pass

you’ll kick ass

no change there

cause you’re the bear

you’re the man

you’re the one

who truly can

just take care…….

Just take time…..

Just realise

Just like the wise

Takes some time

To realise…….

These words sprang to mind effortlessly and spontaneously in the mind of this crazy yogi, the babblings if a madman!

All my love and best wishes

Wishing you success in everything

Your friend

Karma Jiga


waking up

waking up

I was happy to be awake this morning. The dream was so real, so well crafted. As if by Hitchcock ; North by Northwest. I became an accomplice to a murder.

I was back in France. My old artist friend Antoine was in a car with me. He was in the passenger side, sitting next to this girl. He reaches over and cuts her throat and takes 200 bucks from her. He kind off disappears and I am left holding the baby, so to speak. Turns out she is the daughter of a gangster.

The cops are after me as well as the gangster.

There were many nuances that made this feel very real. Why this dream? Why now?

I had a pleasant time with Layer Cake. The usual badges of lifestyle, Ferraris, Beverly Hills, Bell Air. Sitting in a circle of people justifying my humble existence. There were a few kids. I spent time catching up with Roberto , his son..Reminiscing about the tree house I built with him in Switzerland. Then I notice one of the teenagers was wearing a Patek watch worth around $50K. I was glad that Roberto turned out to be a down to earth, unpretentious young man in the haze of such privilege and opulence.

I was feeling sick and left early. I was happy to my Jag roll up in the valet bay in amongst a herd of Maclaren, Rolls Royces, Aston Martins and she held her ground.


a few days have past since this blog…but thought i would continue. Firstly one of my clips of me drawing went viral…still going viral…over 20 000 hits within a week. Its the way of the world.


The hardest thing for me to do is nothing right now. the team are dispersed. I am not getting much in the way of design work. So i should just accept this as a vacation…so off to the cinema to watch the Gaugan movie.

Still no csmoking…its a mind game right now. being satisfied to not being satisfied.

its all in the mind. I recall running out over the Pacific. It was not so bad.

I hate the smell now…and it really stinks.

i can feel the blood pumping round my body with ease.

Woman wise..theres not much going on. After a couple of messages on dating i lose interest. Its as if i can sense the limitations from that. taste the ridiculous expectations.

I finished the charity book…it was easy to execute, although I was in a mood during the process. hard to put my finger on. I somehow look forward to returning to the main story, as it seems to narrate my life.

So today I awoke early, to avoid traffic and checked into LA Mill in Silverlake and continued The Treason of Reason…which seems to be autobiographical.

On route i contemplated a few characters that meed me feel worthless…the folks from the winery and the crazy interior designer that I worked for.  The title was My Whole Life is Most peoples whatever. It is as if it has no meaning.

I went back and slept. Awoke in a funk…a few laps of the pool, shook it off a little. But i know i am getting closer to the truth. being nothing. Having no ambition.having no direction apart from each moment, slipping into the next. its living a life of a Buddhist. That the future in an illusion. The past an even bigger illusion. i am who people think I am. if its whatever, I am aware that the truth is there is something inside thats eternal. theres something inside that is awake. It comes through the art. I knock out one sketch and the book are on the rise. for that many people to engage is astonishing. I watch the numbers, like a coked up eighties stock broker. Analyzing..trying to at least it. But the truth is…Just do it. Fuck it. Let them figure it out. I am just an artist filling up white pages that keeps me sane.

i know that this is only the beginning. I know that this little chapter is shedding skins. Something is emerging. Something is happening. yet nothing is happening. people on the outside are just that. I come and go. A nice pat on the shoulder this morning from my favorite waitress. Its like I am seeing people, life, society as it really is. if i can operate, make my living from that..then that would be amazing.No more exploitation from people who clearly didnt know who or what I was. perhaps it was my fault, for manifesting as this or that.

All the masculine elements related to my family are a source of anger. Its justified. Captain Pugwash and Armitage Shanks, etc.










I haven’t written for some time. I miss writing but can do without the Fahrenheit 451 brigade. There was an image of the winery that came to light. I noticed that the owner had put some information plaque over my name by the mural I painted. It made me laugh. She is such a fasciste. Her husband, now, a cartoon version of himself, whipped into shape, never to speak his mind. What I could have been with my ex wife.

Glad I am out of that cauldron.

Layer Cake is in town today. Gave the Jag some extra love. Smells good and looks good. In fine form for a visit to the Waldorf Astoria in Beverly Hills. Its a flying visit. Otherwise we would be on the boat, reminiscing about the thousands of miles we have sailed together.

I had a dream last night. It was one of these dreams where when I woke, I knew that i had a dream. Tried to fish out some threads, then boom. It hit me.

It was a whole scenario with my ex wife. She was up to her ears in kids…screaming…a whole stressful situation. A room mate of mine had discovered sinister letters from her that had fallen behind a fridge. They were deranged and disturbing  to the point that the police were going to get involved.

I was kind of held captive. She was angling to get money from me. Her boyfriend was beginning to threaten me.

There was a situation where I revealed that I took out lionel Richie at a junction in the Jag. he was drifting through a stop sign and I blasted him with the horn. I got in my get#away car and got the fuck out.

*when we were first dating we were at a private party with Richie, Grace Jones and Lindsey Lohan.

Why this dream, why now?

Was it the In and Out Burger i ate last night that led to such vivid dreams. Is it some unresolved bullshit?

I actually write this from the very Starbucks in Encino that I used to get away from her.

Even though this dream was threatening, subversive and featuring a succube . I don’t feel bad. As i sit in this Starbucks, the difference is, I am free. There is the Most pretty car out there. Its mine. I owe nothing to anyone, emotionally or otherwise. I have a beautiful home that is safe, with a pool. I have amazing friends. I am free!

I have work and contacts…i have my book and a backbone. I am not a cartoon. I can afford to be truthful about life. My brother Enzo …the lawyer …reality to him is a block of clay that can be manipulated into ‘truth’. He is so lost in his own self belief that he is detached from reality. Kind of cliche for someone who is practically a judge. It’s not a good sign when my Tibetan Monk advisor referred to him as an ass.

Layer Cake even asked me for his office number for legal advise…I advised against it. I will probably explain why today. How somebody could lie about my parents wellbeing to get some form of attention is beyond belief.

And then my brother Bastien throwing me under the bus regarding this. Once again without knowing the facts. I have no idea how he navigates yachts across the Ocean.  My memories of them both electrocuting me as a kid with a field radio is still kind of fresh appropriate and somewhat prophetic.

women wise…its all quiet. But that’s a good thing. I am picky as hell.

I have had my fair share of bat shit crazy women. But I have resolved my shit. Smells like roses now.













hitting the wall

hitting the wall

Ok i get it…you cant run around blaming other people for your circumstances.

But they do help to fuck things up. But i have money in the bank, a roof over my head…and a car i am endlessly in love with.

To go from 8/9 hours a day…sometimes 7 days a week to nothing.  I went to paint today and just felt in a funk. I read a Tibetan poem that explained beautifully that there is nothing to do and everything happens by itself. i pulled off a painting of an Angel…kind of felt it coming through strong. I could feel its wings beating on the back of my head.

Its my ego at work really, that brings me the discontent. The future is never mine. Sometimes when your working and putting money away it feels like you are fueling the myth that it can be captured, like lightning in a bottle.

Turns of phrases…like my position in a pecking order of eating shit. that resonated…but will not any more.

The book moves forward with turns and hurdles. All in its good time. I am keeping up a steady flow on book two.

its funny writing words. there is such a release, by tend to have consequences. Certain people who read it are shocked, insulted…surprised that there is this thing in side of me. A voice …something that synthesizes a world in which I live in, i have no regrets.

layer Cake comes to town. I think we sail together. I found a yacht we can rent.  I shall be seeing the Santaria Reader soon, shine a little light on this chapter. If it is a chapter of retreat. Then so be it, i will accept it. I will be happy within that. If  I am to hustle, then I will hustle.







Dear Karl

Dear Karl



Karl is my Art brother, as is Tony, we shared studios on and off for many years. We even got picked up by the BBC and filmed in my friend, Ray’s castle. He moved to Singapore, I moved to America. we both got Divorced. Sort of stranded on other continents.

Thank you for your letter. I connected with it but I am still none the wiser as to what I should do. As i make decisions there seems to be counter decisions. the Devil’s advocate. I seem to have less and less tolerance for the bullshit. Then again I am humbled by little successes and gestures from other people. They say that its going to be OK.

I have a roof over my head, food in the belly and a car that I love and own. I don’t have a any children through a broken relationship. I, as the lama said, am free, more free than most.

in my silence I churn through a loud cacophony of scenarios, memories. Just to be in this moment is what its all about. I remember sitting on a park bench with Ray Butler in Beverly Hills and he said…’all we have is this moment’ …a phrase that is indisputable. It should be a mantra.

After expressing my chagrin to the way i was treated, viewed by the Spinal Tap scenario. I proceed with caution. With my eyes wide open. Regrouping and bringing focus back to my creativity.

I have a great team with the book. It thrills me to see it come to life.

Current mood

Current mood

It’s another rainy day in los Angeles. The bum guards the gate of Starbucks. Entrance is a dollar to the emporium of band width users. The bum seems blissfully happy. His painted filthy, nails, all Halloween orange and chimeny red. He holds his phone like his life depends on it. watching god knows what, listening to crackly rock music. He’s some body’s son. Not much fun for him on a rainy day.

I awoke in a melancholy mood. Perhaps the rain makes me homesick. Scottish weather. Or perhaps I am just sick of LA and its bullshit. I spent a bit of time musing over the Moby Dick image. Something unattainable. Seems apt. I am just quite happy that i got it done for Sam. The delivery man strikes again.

And this image, included seems appropriate. I feel like i am dangling over LA. Like Damocles, ready to make a judgement in a split second and bail the fuck out.

Everything is perfect. the lama says, Everything is the way it should be. Am I a failure, am I a success; depends on how you see it. Have I subscribed to an imbalanced marriage, have I brought up children in that environment. Haven’t been to prison, Not a slave to debt. Put food in my mouth with stuff I make with my hands.

I primed a cigar box, just not sure what image to work on. Meeting the Indifference people this week. It feels like a team. I meet with The Rock Star in a few minutes. Not sure what to make of all that. I noticed i sold another one of his T shirts is the middle east.


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