Blogopolis

Interesting and somewhat bruising encounter with someone who I think must be my opposite in Myers-Briggs terms (see post entitled “Lo! I am an ISBN”) Normally I avoid these people as they tend to think I’m a waste of space – and oddly, I am not keen on being thought a waste of space. But in this case I had so far got a really good vibe from this particular person. We talked of this and that: then we got on to my writing. The more passionate I got, the more worried he looked: that’s not what you want.

He’ll be sorry when I’m famous. Actually, in my experience, people are very rarely sorry. They’re more often puzzled. Anyway, the encounter left me feeling somewhat bruised and discouraged, which I’m sure was not the intention.

There’s a lot more I could say about this but I’ll let it settle first.

A couple of lines from a poem which swirled in my head this morning:

The pan has no Peter

the fan has no heater

- not sure what it all means but it sounds interesting – no?

See you tomorrow. Have a good day – and think about this Myers-Briggs stuff: it’s interesting.

TTFN

Yes! Yes! Affirmative with, say, 5th and 17th letters*

I have for the first time completed a Guardian prize crossword set by Araucaria. I have occasionally done one set by Paul or Domus or one of those on whom I now spit – but Araucaria is God. His/her clues are fiendish and sometimes surreal and I usually don’t even do half of them – but today I finished it! – which is no ungenerous extremities, say, for achievement.

(No mean feat – geddit?)

* yes (e and s)

Energetic Disassembly

This was a phrase someone used as a euphemism for “being blown up”. I can’t remember where it comes from – Mark would know but he’s asleep. It’s 6.10 am and that is good news – last night I woke up at four and couldn’t get back to sleep. Very annoying.

My new toilets also let me down – apparently they close early, so I had to go all the way home. You try walking a mile and a half with crossed legs!

I wanted to blog about the Bowstring Bridge, which is no more. As a piece of rusting Victoriana*, I couldn’t get too worked up about the bridge per se – but what I don’t like is that De Montfort University are taking over whole swathes of the city. These people seem to behave exactly like some large corporation, which in a way they are (Degrees R Us. I don’t know how to do a backwards R though I guess there’s some font – McDonald’s sans serif? – which has it.)

There’s a lot about the Bowstring Bridge on ratae’s blog – ratae.wordpress.com. I don’t put links on here any more, as a firm, juicy link tends to go all squidgy the next time you click on it. They’re a bit like pears – nice and firm when you feel them in the shop; brown and squashy once you get them home.

Incidentally, in a brave though somewhat Canute-ish stance, Mark always refers to De Mont as “the poly”, which is what it used to be.

*the bridge not me (although some days I feel exactly like a piece of rusting Victoriana)

Today I am speaking to someone about our financial problems, then going to the library as per. Have a good day!

Hold onto your Bibles…

I’ve found the other poems.  Here they are:

Genesis Triptych

1.

The female form

goes down a storm

still Adam’s bone remains the norm

2.

the man’s the default setting

the woman straight to video

the buck that you must conquer

in your wedding rodeo

3.

We reproduce

you bring your juice

by Israel out of Syracuse

Exodus

exit baby

out of me

you the author

bring the tree

Leviticus Lyric

fibres mixed

behaviours fixed

out and lambed

you’ll be damned.

Continuing our Jenson Button theme, I’ve found a writer at the library called Toby Litt, which definitely sounds to me like some sort of qualification in the arts.

Any more?

They’re onto me…

at Fenwick’s.  I’ve been using their toilets rather than go down to the market, which takes me 15 mins there and back.  I honestly thought they didn’t care but today I was followed by a security guard who nodded significantly at a member of staff as I went by.  So I guess I won’t be doing that again. 

I wrote some poems and thought I’d saved them onto the key-drive but they’re not there.  Except they are, but in a different format.  This drives me crazy – I keep running into problems because we don’t have Word at home.

I can remember three of the poems:

Genesis Triptych

1.

the female form

goes down a storm

tho’ Adam’s bone is still the norm.

2.

the man’s the default-setting

the woman straight to video

the buck that you must conquer

in your wedding rodeo

3.

we reproduce

you bring the juice

by Israel out of Syracuse

I’ve always thought that “ontome” ought to be a word in its own right – like “infamy” – you know, as in Kenneth Williams shouting “Infamy!  Infamy!  They’ve all got it – ” you know the rest.  In Carry on over the Rubicon, or whatever it was.  Ontome, ontome, they’re all onto me!  See?  It could work!

TFN (now drinking 50% less tea)

Normal consciousness will be resumed as soon as possible…

Meanwhile, here is some light music.

Remember Ian Macaskill? He was a manic Scots weatherman who, one day in the dismal summer of 1985, said: “I’m trying to think of something good to say about the weather. Meanwhile, here is some light music.” That was in the days before weather people had Personalities. He was the first.

A good weekend, although rather tired yesterday. On Tuesday I have what you might call a counselling session about our financial situation. I am unaccountably nervous about this, as though it will reveal cracks in my personality (with a small p, but possibly a large C). I don’t find it easy to ask for help with things – I like to sort them out on my own. But sometimes you just can’t.

I woke up feeling dislocated and not able to remember which of our family members are alive and which are dead. That’s not what you want on a Monday morning.

Have a good week – and think rich!

TTFN

PS  Speaking of the Scots, in Leigh, Lancs where I used to live there was a character called Scotch Colin (also a little manic) which in turn reminds me of Scotch Corner, which is no longer a corner but a huge bloody roundabout at the end of the M1.  The same thing has probably happened to Pooh Corner, but I haven’t been there for a while.

Ugh!

Tired, tired, tired.  Had a good afternoon/evening yesterday with Peter, drinking beer and eating curry.  Eric Clapton is still god, though Neil Young is but an echo of his former self.  Unfortunately I think I need to stay off alcohol now for a while as it doesn’t seem to agree with me.

That’s all for now.  Christingles at church this morning

Ugh!

Friendzy

I would like to state, for the record, that I tried. Last night at 5 pm I tried to gather up all the Friends series we have on DVD – all ten of them – and put them, as the phrase has it, beyond use. At least until the next generation. But Mark stopped me! Let it be stated for the record that this is what happened.

Good meal with Ruth last night at Sardaar’s. Couldn’t finish it, brought leftovers back for Mark (in spite of the Friends’ fiasco). We are now on series 3 which contains the episode which stresses me out (“the one where no-one’s ready”) and the only one I find really boring – the Thanksgiving one where they play football all the time.

I am trying to get my head around these emails about climate change and what is actually happening. This is not helped by Mark ranting about Kuhn * and how science “isn’t objective!” He may be right, but it doesn’t help.

I foresee a lazy morning reading the Guardian and perhaps having breakfast in bed.

Oh, one more thing – am I the only person who thinks President After-dinner jacket whenever they hear the Afghan president’s name?

Really?

No-one?

Just me?

Enjoy your Saturday.

TTFN

* I don’t know who he is either

Ouf! as the French say

A terrible poem I wrote years and years ago:

The beer bottle is brown

It fizzes when opened:

Pschitt! As the French say.

It was a Haiku.

If you don’t know, there used to be a fizzy drink sold in France and it was advertised with the word “Pschitt!” plastered all over the billboard (to indicate the sound it made when opened) – much to the amusement of all English-speaking visitors.  I guess they’ve got wise to it now.

What would the English equivalent be?  Suggestions please.

I’ve taken to working in the reference library.  It’s warmer and quieter – and they have more computers.  Downside: they are much stricter about not eating and drinking – but actually, that’s better – if I don’t drink, I don’t need to pee.

In fact, the reference library is altogether a severer place to work: busts of Shakespeare and Newton (as well as other luminaries, all male) preside sternly over you as you work.  They all look very serious, though I fancy Shakespeare has a smile playing around his mouth, though that could be just because I know him.

Very tired today.  Slept badly.  Going out with Ruth tonight, to Sardaar’s as usual (we are blessed with many veggie Indian restaurants in Leicester) – and tomorrow, to the Ale Wagon with Peter and then back to his for food.

TTFN – enjoy your weekend

PS  Actually, as haiku lovers will have spotted, the last line doesn’t have enough syllables.

The power of blog!

My blog is so big, so strong and so mighty – there’s nothing my blog cannot do.

Wow!  As a direct result of my comments on this blog, a friend of mine gave a Big Issue seller £20 that he needed for a key deposit so that he had somewhere to sleep.  Amazing!

Well done Squire!  It has cost you nothing but your gin – and you don’t need that anyway.

Take one dozen Brownie points.  Anyone else?

TTFN