last night horsemouth went out to the bookgroup. this morning he has a bad head (but not too bad - he has plenty of time to treat it with paracetamol and asprin and caffeine berfore he works).
many people were there it was good to see you all.
horsemouth took up his c.s. lewis science fiction trilogy and managed to part with it, he lent out the david grubb (the agapemonians, the memory diary, the movie of his life that was seemngly never made), margueritte duras's the lover went quickly.
horsemouth returned with only a spare copy of voyage to venus, he brought back,
jerome k. jerome's idle thoughts of an idle fellow,
angela carter's the magic toyshop,
pierre boisard, camembert,
and mute, underneath the knowledge commons.
max slipped the xenophobe's guide to the english into his bag so horsemouth will have to work out how to dispose of that.
paperback writer was a book review show in horsemouth's childhood, various writers would bring in various books they wanted reviewed. (yes the theme music was by the beatles) if horsemouth remembers correctly it was presented by the in our time fellow melvyn bragg. once, and again this is if horsemouth remembers correctly, angela carter was on, the book she had chosen was the whip and fladge classic the story of o, this was during feminist times, but also there was something sadistic in itself in making writers discuss a book about sadism, masochism and piercing in a manner suitable for a tv audience (at the height of the influence of mary whitehouse too). horsemouth watched entranced.
angela lansbury was prowling the neighbourhood yesterday - horsemouth does hop this is not the start of some arty gentrification thing - but, like eyore, he suspects it is.
1066 blues ( a pair of walking boots and a season ticket)
a tape has emerged of john fahey (and dr. demento) interviewing son house. son house sounds healthy and sober with a stronger voice than in his later years. much of the discussion concerns the origin of the name of charley patton's charlie bradley’s 1066 blues - this turns out not to be about the norman conquest of britain at all but about the times of local trains coming out of memphis (charlie bradley was the train driver - people on the route liked the way he blew the whistle).
outside it is rainy and grey and a bit rubbish. yesterday horsemouth went up to the nearby seaside town of hackney (it is hard to imagine the seaside towns tramway being memorialised like charlie bradley's train), he and howard (the musicians of bremen), worked on some new songs and played through some old ones - they plan to do some recording over the easter holidays. horsemouth, as howard pinted out, has cunningly ensured that he can survive on less money to permit him to work less and so have time to make his art/ music/ write whatever... the problem is that he is too lazy and disorganised to do so. it is a fair criticism.
horsemouth and howard have grown sick and disgusted by the murder mile (their hackney local) while nicely decorated and with good beer it is in fact infested with ponces, and it's getting worse, now they strut around like they own the place (which in fact they do). the musicians of bremen will be returning their custom to at the sign of the owltopus. one of the advantages of horsemouth's less than salubrious neighbourhood is that it is quite ponce resistant by virtue of being less than salubrious, utterly boring and a just little dangerous. this will however not be enough to save it from the flood tide of money rapidly sanitising this city. soon horsemouth and the local psychotic trash will be rinsed out to the suburbs - horsemouth will get a pair of walking boots and a season ticket.
No comments:
Post a Comment