'he whistled the 'found and killed' of the locust clan'

horsemouth is up. he's awake (slightly later than usual). he has his coffee (he's probably going to sneak a little hot water into it).

last night he tried to watch various movies but gave up and started reading of compendium of m.john harrison's virconium writings. he has a nice story of whistling brawlers to begin it, 'he whistled the 'found and killed' of the locust clan'.

yesterday howard came round. his school is closing early for the summer. horsemouth tuned the bad taste country and western guitar up into standard tuning and howard played his old acoustic (tuned standard). they made some progress on a few tunes.  howard has a number of fingerpicking guitar things he wants to try. notably if time was a lie -  which howard wants horsemouth to sing exactly as howard sings it,  and  ah poor bird  which horsemouth pulled out a part for and howard seemed to like). they won't start work in earnest for two weeks or so until howard has had a chance to recover from this year (what a fucker it has been). 

at some point howard picked up the telecaster copy and was having fun playing it. 

then they drank and squabbled about what music to listen to. before howard headed down to the station and off home. 

the pawn shops of the margarethestrasse

so horsemouth has been inside only one second hand bookshop in the past year (similarly for second hand CDs). he has even been hesitant about picking up stuff from the street (why take the risk right?). on his way back from dropping howard at the station he picked up a collection of new yorkers and a cigarette cards album from the street. it is record store day.

tomorrow is the anniversary of everything... (to be contrary howard pronounced his favourite to be the humming, horsemouth counterattacked with amarach). 

tonight horsemouth goes to child-mind/ babysit. 

we roll towards lammas, a meeting of the communal endeavour, and a pay day.