Telling Teenage Fortunes / October 6 2008
No.24
You will develop a taste for alcohol.
Filed under Telling Teenage Fortunes / 6 Comments »
The Boy From Mars / October 5 2008
I was dreaming last night that I was travelling across America in a flying saucer.
I was taking a break in a bar in the middle of nowhere when Heather Locklear wandered in and headed straight towards me. She looked tired and was obviously quite drunk. ‘Hey, you’re the Boy From Mars, aren’t you? Can you lend me twenty dollars and fifty cents? I’ve got to drive for miles to get to see my lover OJ Simpson before they send him to hell.’
‘Is it really important to you?’ I asked.
‘Well, he’s offered to instruct me in getting away with murder.’
I laughed.
‘It’s not funny, Mars-Boy,’ she hissed. ‘You might think OJ ridiculous but abstract evil does not choose the form in which it emerges in the particular.’ (I think she was secretly plagiarising something she had read about Hitler and the Nazis.)
‘Anyway, what’s the fifty cents for?’ I asked.
‘Oh, that’s to buy lipstick for my pig.’ With that, she fell over and was carried outside by a priest who put her in an ambulance and drove her away.
Chuckling to myself, I finished my breakfast of grits and coffee before getting in my spaceship to continue my journey.
Later, as I was going through Hollywood, I turned on the radio for company; Harry Shearer was singing: ‘President Bush is a moron; we’re all doomed.’ It was a good song.
I got up this morning about seven-thirty feeling very refreshed and was able to write down the exact details of my dream with the mental precision I always have on first waking.
Filed under Bush / Dreams / Drinking / Songs / USA / 1 Comment »
Telling Teenage Fortunes / October 3 2008
No.24
Often, when you dream at night, you will discover you possess something extraordinary; something you didn’t realize you had.
This is what it is: grace.
Filed under Dreams / Life / Telling Teenage Fortunes / 3 Comments »
Overheard in an English Garden / October 2 2008
I was in the back garden yesterday, and the young man – I use the word ‘man’ but ‘thug’ or ‘imbecile’ would perhaps be more apt – who lives next door was talking, or rather, shouting, to some of his male friends about girls and fashion.
He did not know I was there because a high fence separates our two properties. I often hear him; his remarks are a constant source of amusement to me.
Here are some of the things I heard yesterday:
‘I’ve had her – nobbed her in t’van. Not be seeing her again, though. A bit thick, that one. Nice t*ts though.’
‘Have you got summat up yer arse again?’
‘What, him next door with that dog with that guitar? Elton John and Lassie?’
‘What are you wearing, yer daft tw*t? You look like a Christmas.’
And my favourite of the day:
‘Her in that black hat job? She is nervous, isn’t she. She’s always saying boo to a goose.’
Comedy gold.
(I’m not worried he will see this post; I don’t think he can read.)
Filed under English Village Life / Humour / Idiots / 8 Comments »
Beauty and the Brawn / October 1 2008
I was hoping that it was a different red spaniel, but of course it wasn’t; I saw the beautiful girl and her muscleman walking their frisky dog this morning on the rec’.
Why is it that beautiful women – in this part of the world, at least – always seem to be attracted to big dumb weightlifters? Time to renew the gym membership, methinks.
Now, where did I put that monkey . . . ?
Filed under Women / 5 Comments »
Red Spaniels and Musclemen / September 29 2008
‘Good morning. Lovely day isn’t it.’
Damn, I thought. Damn! Damn! Damn!
When Audrey and I passed the frisky red spaniel this morning he was accompanied by an incredibly huge and rather frightening young man with a cleft chin and slicked-back hair. As they passed by I was tempted to form the immediate assumption that the proliferation of tattoos covering the man’s forearms was to make up for the fact that he did not have a neck.
He had on a tiny black t-shirt with the letters FBI on the back in white; it was so tight on him that it looked as if it were meant for a child: perhaps, on a recent holiday to America, he had stolen it from an adolescent, trainee federal agent.
His limbs bulged as if they were about to burst. I was so taken aback I think I actually broke wind. ‘Is there a circus in town?’ I whispered to Audrey when he was out of earshot.
On returning to the house I took a minute to sit down and clear my head before starting work. I had made myself a milky coffee and watched a programme on the television about clowns.
Filed under Clowns / Life / Other People / 3 Comments »
Day/Off / September 28 2008
I tried to take a day off yesterday but ended up being busier than usual.
The thing is, I cannot actually remember doing anything terribly useful; nor can I report that I achieved anything even remotely significant throughout the entire day – despite the fact that I was constantly occupied. My days of rest always seem to turn out this way.
I won’t bore you with the details; suffice it to say that the whole thing started at 8:am when, glancing around the lounge, I told Audrey: ‘Let’s tidy up.’
Our ‘lounge’ is used for storage and is mostly a collection of clutter, a frighteningly confused room that usually looks perfectly set for a chaos gymkhana. I have often thought of inviting the underprivileged children of the parish to the house and charging them fifty pence each to abandon their cares for an afternoon and root frivolously around in the Lawrence Festival of Mess.
That and various other pointless and trivial tasks took up about fifteen hours – fifteen mindless hours spent indoors on what turned out to be a gorgeously sunny September day in rural Englandshire.
Audrey did get her favourite walk around Townend Farm, and I did try to sit down for a few minutes now and again, but generally speaking, the arc of my attempted relaxation formed a singularly swift and very steep downwards parabola.
At 11:pm, feeling somehow defrauded and more tired than usual, I allowed myself a tender sigh before turning out the lights, climbing the stairs with my hairy friend, and burrowing like a homing rodent beneath the downy folds of my king-size continental quilt.
Alone, regrettably.
Filed under Home Studio / Life / 1 Comment »
Nocturnal Body Oddity / September 27 2008
Last night I dreamed my eyes had moved closer together. This upset me so much I had to avoid looking in the mirror while I was shaving, and now my lips are covered in razor cuts.
A few weeks ago one of my hands fell off in a dream; and during the spring I had a recurring nightmare that I had women’s legs – vaguely alluring in an autoerotic sort of way, but disturbing nonetheless.
This situation cannot continue; it is beginning to make demands of my good humour. Time to consult my local MP, methinks.
Filed under Dreams / 3 Comments »
Lisa’s Online / September 26 2008
I have always wanted – for some unfathomable reason known only to my subconscious mind – to write a pop song that was under a minute long. I have achieved this task to my satisfaction with brand new composition Moaning Lisa.
I have just done a quick recording of it in the studio and I’m so pleased with the results that I have uploaded it to my Virb and MySpace pages.
It’s a song that will more than likely make it on to the new Enormous album. Please feel free to hop on over there, have a listen, and tell me what you think.
Filed under Enormous / Music / Song Writing / Songs / 4 Comments »
How The Grouch Stole Thursday / September 25 2008
Ouch! I hate oversleeping in the mornings but that’s exactly what happened today.
Audrey usually wakes me with a gentle nudge at 6am, but she too was fast asleep this morning for some reason until eight o’clock. I cannot afford to get up late; there is so much to do.
And now I am in such a bad mood I have decided to adjust my plans for the day slightly and go and beat up some Italian Post-Expressionists.
Filed under Annoyances / Work / 4 Comments »
