my life as a artist
You are viewing all posts from July, 2008. To return to the front page, click here.
ridin along in my automobile
Sunday 27th July 2008 10:32 PM
I'm in my m-reg, metaphor-pimped, soul cyber-car, drunk on imagery and stoned on strange connections, speeding down the poetry highway, freewheeling towards the county line, when I see the cold blue light of reason flashing in my rear-view mirror. I'm pulled over by Marshal Steve from the geography police, and he rummages in my comment box and tells me that Glastonbury is in Somerset, not Wiltshire, and could he see my poetic licence, please? I tell him that I was so busy trying to find assonance with 'Blackburn, Lancashire', that I didn't notice that the lights had changed, and he laughs and lets me off, and says, 'Have a nice day in the life!'
Last week, one of my mates, I can't remember if it was Reg or Vic, was telling me about Iceland and the happy fact that they don't really go in for armies. After securing independence from King Lurpak IV of Denmark, in 1918, they were too skint to establish an army, so they made do with a coastguard and an Icelandic Crisis Response Unit, to sweep snow off people's doorsteps and stuff.
In April 1940, following the Nazi invasion of Denmark and Norway, the Icelanders suddenly thought it might be a good idea to get an army together, so they sharpened all the shovels and started training up sixty officers, but unfortunately it was too late, because on 10th May they were invaded by the United Kingdom. They didn't see it coming, and when I was reading it on google, I didn't see it coming either. Why have I never heard or been told that Britain once invaded Iceland?
Although my knowledge of Iceland is sketchy, and the event long ago, I nevertheless feel a deep sense of tribal shame at my countries violation of what, according to Reg or Vic, is a very fine and peaceable nation. When I first think of Iceland, I experience involuntary images of frozen food and a shared car-park with Aldi, but fairly soon I manage to overcome my conditioning, and instead think of glaciers, volcanoes, nightclubs and free geo-thermal power. As for the character of the people, I marvel at how the bushy-browed gravitas of Bjork is leavened by the elfin unpredictability of Magnus Magnusson.
From 1940, according to Wikipedia, Iceland fell under the jurisdiction of North Yorkshire County Council, until the famous Cod Wars of 1976, when King Findus V1 wrestled back his country's sovereignty by the strategic use of huge shoals of cold and slippery, but highly trained fish. Good for him!
Posted 10:32 PM | 6 Comments | Permalink
carry on camping
Wednesday 23rd July 2008 5:20 PM
Ah, the thirst-quenching wetness of words! Vague sweet moisture sucked from a sea of contemplation, blown inland on winds of inspiration, raised by mountains of granite will into the engirdling stratosphere of concept, then condensing and falling in laughing droplets of light, splashing meaning onto the arable farmland of our parched and outstretched tongues. Plop!
Did you notice how the exclamation mark looks like a pictogram depicting rain? Speaking of which…
I read the news today, oh boy!
Ten thousand discarded tents in Glastonbury, Wiltshire,
And tho' the tents were rather small,
There was nothing wrong with them at all,
Now they know how many thoughtless, bourgoise brain-outs were at a greenpeace fest-i-val….
I'd love to turn them on… to the fact that there's similar sized out-of-town gatherings currently going on all over Africa, called refugee camps, and would like to point out the ghastly irony of their actions. Yeah, whatever!
Every day, 300 million people in Africa live on less than one euro a day, (that's each, not between them) while the cows that now graze on Mr Eavis's farm, along with all the other cows in Europe, receive a daily subsidy of two and a half euros (that's each, not between them), which they mostly spend on drugs. I don't know if that's irony, but it's certainly ghastly.
Rick Astley was ghastly as well, but in a vastly different way.
Posted 5:20 PM | 3 Comments | Permalink
a different electric kettle of fish
Sunday 20th July 2008 10:56 PM
I'd like to take this opportunity, in fact grab it with both hands, firmly enough to have it under control, but not enough to throttle it, to apologise for the recent blog-drought. It's still going on, and this is just a brief desultory shower.
I've just been on the road for two weeks, taking in the Glastonbury and Workhouse festivals, and other noisy water features, after which I've come home to fulfil some urgent filial duties. My Mum's flat has been renovated and revamped by the council, in consultation with Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen and Lulu, so she's been staying with me in the meantime (my Mum, that is, not Lulu, who shouts and goes boom-bang-a-bang too much for my liking).
Since the workmen finished going boom-bang-a-bang last Friday, I've been doing that mad, monomaniacal, midnight magnolia and wood-chip thing again, in an effort to restore my Mums flat, and indeed my Mum, to their rightful place. Although keen to return, she says she'll miss the beautiful view, my wholesome vegetarian cooking, and the high quality of the passive smoking.
I'm sure Katy speaks for you all when she writes in to say I was fantastic at Glastonbury. Thank you. After the gig I went backstage and hung out with James Blunt, Katie Melua, and Gilbert O'Sullivan and we had a lively game of scrabble. Later Neil Diamond and Shakin' Stevens turned up with some Tunnocks caramel wafers and a bottle of squash, and we partied until way past eleven. It was quite trippy.
Back in the mundane (but still muddy) world of football, even though there's still strawberries ripening on the vine, tomorrow sees the second game of the season for the mighty, yet humble and approachable, York Corinthians. Though we're sons of warrior gods, some of us still need a good eight hour kip the night before a game, and as I'm one of those, I'll have to go to bed now.
Whoever you are, wherever you are, I hope to talk to you soon, and I'll try harder not to make a stranger of myself , OK? All right then, goodnight! See you soon! Laters, eh?
Posted 10:56 PM | 1 Comments | Permalink
