yesterday the sun came out and horsemouth walked up to aldi with sten. he shopped on auto (beer, museli, pizza etc.)
surge testing in hoxton and dalston over the south african variant, the indian variant rising up the pop charts pop pickers and there's always the homegrown kent variant. boosterish boris keen to unlock and give us the maximum opportunity to spread the virus.
horsemouth doesn't get his second jab til mid june (and then he has to go and play a gig - assuming it doesn't all go to shit again).
'this is likely to be my last prose piece. all sorts of considerations make me believe it is high-time this shepherd boy stopped writing and sending off prose pieces and retired from a pursuit apparently beyond his abilities. I'll gladly look about for another line of work that will let me break my bread in peace.'
so writes walser in an apparent abdication letter. he doesn't give up the writing habit until much later (when they've got him in the asylum).
work thinks there's more work. horsemouth thinks it is done already. time will tell. meetings next week of various sorts.
coming up soon the first meeting of the communal endeavour in its new dispensation. (let the rock-rolling recommence). back to the war to create more housing. in the last week of may the end of the paris commune, 3 years of volume 3 - the anniversary of the release of musicians of bremen volume 3, the anniversary of the birth of harry everett smith.
june. rent rises, second jab. gig.
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