horsemouth multiplies his personality (‘hail to the king of ... activity, to whom time and space gives way’)

howard.... busy (also) ...etc.

‘... yes, hail to that being, composed of saltpetre and gas, who makes children for france during his laborious nights, and in the day multiplies his personality for the service, glory, and pleasure of his fellow-citizens...’ 

while the rest of the novel (the girl with the golden eyes) is a minor thing, balzac’s sustained coffee fueled rant about the hardworking, multitasking parisian citizen is a thing of beauty. balzac's parisian citizen works multiple jobs. after a full working day balzac makes him a spear carrier at the opera.

you can see why marx and engels love him (and what they’ve borrowed from him).

 

all this crazy gift of time (witchi tai to)

horsemouth has survived his cough coughtend year and the fateful date is here. he is now free of it for another year (phew). he will be celebrating by going for a quiet glass of wine (at least that’s the plan) with someone who shares his birthday (he has already commiserated the other person he knows who shares his birthday). for all you astrologers out there he can’t imagine more different people.

tomorrow he will be tidying up D+C’s place then going for a jam with the next door neighbours. 

horsemouth shares his fateful day with john lee hooker and claude debussy (and ladislav klima). on this date in a previous year revolutionary students burnt down the british consulate in china during the cultural revolution.

in previous years horsemouth has celebrated in the following fashion.

2015 - at his parents in the countryside (parents, brother, sister-in-law, and kids)

2014 - pub - the gentrifier's arms (martin, andrew minty, marike, antony, myk, john et al.) then balfron tower (eleonora etc.)

2013 - chateau bremen, failing to record a slide guitar part for dorothy (missed opportunity) then a few pints with howard at the sign of the owltopus (because the murder mile was shut).

2012 - bridport - torchlight procession, huge bonfire on the beach, band playing swords of a thousand men, rob, emma, kids and friends. on the actual day coffee at the cafe on the beach burton bradstock at the recommendation of a neighbour.

2011 - (solitary in pop(u)lar) voluntary labour (spey street) then beer and pizza

2010 - bridport then torchlight parade

2009 - volunteering his labour (sumner house). party at jiska and marike’s afterwards (brother ray, associated phoenicians)

... thereafter the record is lost in the mists of time (ie. it’s not recorded on this computer and horsemouth would have to search his physical diaries. assuming he wrote it down. horsemouth is not fond of his fateful days and tends to keep quiet about them.

yesterday horsemouth returned to his new domicile (briefly) to sleep for a few hours having babysat (to facilitate others birthday plans) then returned to the forest, met the neighbours (hence the arrangement for tuesday) and then went for a read in the sun up by the pond (a found copy of the times mostly).

the longest day (the shortest dark night of the soul)

'the romanticism if the gendarmes, the dramatic exercises of the detectives, the lavish setting for the display of loyal zeal... the whippers-in, the hounds...' - herzen, ends and beginnings, p.122. 

of course being a noble herzen is eventually reprieved from siberia and found a job in the imperial bureaucracy, on his second offence he is posted to novgorod. there he finds a thoroughly bent admninistration and has himself transfered to the least bent bit of it, the bit that oversees political exiles (like himself). in this capacity he hears the police's reports on himself (they tactfully don't mention any activity that might be embarrasing). in this horsemouth finds a shade of through a scanner darkly.

in novgorod in the 12th century the new church took the statue of the slav sky god perun and threw it in the river - herzen calls them voltaireans.


horsemouth was round house of howard recording some guitar parts for the song currently titled police close off the southbound entrance to the blackwall tunnel - using the resonator he recorded a daddad tuned slide round the chords (it's probably a bit quiet - especially in the bits where he's sliding harmonics) and then a portishead-type minor-feel feed -in (guitar tuned dgcfad to make it 'shake' a bit more - the resonator has high string tension and so does not exhibit much vibrato - at least not with horsemouth dragging the strings about). you probably can't have the the two guitars doing the feed-in at the same time. it needs organ, maybe harmonium.

the song's only opportunity to go big is on the line this city's mine (which horsemouth thinks will bear a repeat) - a very contested sentiment these days.

the murder mile may have reached and passed peak gentrification (horsemouth enjoys the look of horror locals give him when he mentions he goes there) - the bourge families are dying back to be replaced by the youth in multiple occupation - it's all vintage fairs and second rate soul music (bane to humanity) 'bought' good taste. the musicians of bremen may be returning their patronage to at the sign of the owltopus.

paperback writer / 1066 blues ( a pair of walking boots and a season ticket)

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.