April 2010
1 post
Observations 20/04/10
moshak-is:
A man, apparently distracted (by what? A woman?), let his motorbike fall to the floor, before shouting “carajo.”
Passengers wore one of two faces: either sickening expressions of resignation, or of unabashed thrill, depending on how well they knew this particular route, the road’s twists and turns, whether they like fairgrounds.
A woman and her dog (has it always been hers?) rifled...
December 2009
6 posts
Wallpaper
When I was nine, I covered my bedroom walls in magazine spreads. Not of footballers or girls specifically, more current affairs. I don’t think I’ve learnt more in one year than I did in 1993.
I'm playing Nigerian highlife, from Cameroon
He had a piece of card propped up against his guitar case. On it was written, in huge red letters, “thank you, my brothers. We are me and you together.”
Yesterday I listened to Solomon Ilori, all day.
But No Objects
Last night I dreamt of colour. Blocks of red and blue and green, although the memory is fading, and I’m unsure of order.
There were no people, no objects. Nothing that can be considered tangible. Just huge scenes of flat colour, one fading into the next, for hours.
November 2009
21 posts
Cafe
The fact that they only have one coffee machine — one coffee machine! — is testament to their desire to “cater for the individual”.
Catch-up
There is little or no news.
Greg and Jen have bought a house. It has three bedrooms and a garden. The owner was happy to throw in a dog but they said no, on account of not having any time. The house is in the Cotswolds.
William and his girlfriend also plan to buy a house. This is a surprise because William, by his own admission, was not keen on the girl when they first started to go out. If...
Greek Oath
We will leave this city more beautiful than when we entered it.
Tragedy
Knowing smiles amidst raised eyebrows.
Raymond Carver
Biography review by Stephen King over at the New York Times.
Next time, maybe
The small girl has started to write to me. That is to say, she’s written one letter consisting of a paragraph and a load of scribbles. One paragraph. That’s all it is, this letter. One paragraph and a load of scribbles that make absolutely no sense as pictures. If I tilt my head slightly, and squint, one of them almost looks like a cloud, but the others are unrecognisable. And...
S/S 2010
Contemporary monastic. Thigh high robes. Warm greys. Rope.
Morale
Doors made of balsa to make us all feel stronger.
Never
I was with a girl from work and we broke up. We haven’t spoken to each other since. We still work together. She does this thing where she walks past my desk and drops tiny pieces of food into my hair.
Preface
I am six feet two and weigh nearly two hundred pounds and am badly coordinated, except when I swim. All that borrowed meat does the writing.
In the water I am beautiful.
Kurt Vonnegut, Preface, Welcome to the Monkey House
Exhibition
Billboards as city galleries. The commuter’s high art.
Class Structure
We are given four squares, all blue.
We are given four more, three red, one green.
We are told to create a composition that balances top and bottom.
We are told to use at least one blue square at the centre of the composition.
Kevin stands up and says it’s bullshit.
He sets fire to his squares with a bunsen burner.
Evolution
Emails sent by dead writers will be worth a fortune.
Not bad, although the detail was lost
We went to see the LSO last night, who were good, although at parts drowned out by four guitars connected to huge amps.
Later I dreamt that you called my mum to ask her when the next book was out. You mispronounced the word ‘book’ and my mum corrected you. Then she said soon, Ben, soon and you walked off smiling.
October 2009
29 posts
Matei Vişniec
A Paris Attic Overlooking Death; Pockets Full Of Bread; The Story Of The Panda Bears Told By A Saxophonist Who Has A Girlfriend In Frankfurt; What Shall We Do With The Cello; Paparrazzi, Or Chronicle Of An Aborted Sunrise; How To Explain The History Of Communism To Mental Patients; Horses At The Window; The Word Progress On My Mother’s Lips Doesn’t Ring True.
Oh Matei
Not What We Agreed
Whispered, with guilt: I’m still at home, and haven’t showered yet.
Experiment
When light travels through glass it refracts, changing from good to evil and back, depending on depth and other contributing factors.
Date
We will go shopping for the best t-shirts we’ll ever wear in the colours that most bring out our eyes.
We will go to the Tate and point at the rich people.
We will go to a big department store and spray perfumes at each other.
We will go to a drive-through car wash without a car but wearing cagoules.
We will pretend to skateboard through Liverpool Street Station but in actual fact...
One Fell Swoop
Let’s say that the universe is too big, and we’re in the middle of this universe which is too big and we’re sinking; we’re sinking so fast that there’s no hope of us ever reaching the surface again and we’ll drown, all of us, completely unhappy, even the young people.
The Boy Laughing With His Mother (Overheard)
Can I have your eyes? Can I have your eyes and look like you? Alright, can I cook you then? Can I cook you later, for dinner? I will. You could do with loosing some weight anyway. Ha ha. Can you turn your eyes back to front? I can, but I won’t now.
Is everything ok? You look a little sick - all white. But don’t worry. Because you know I’m ‘life’ don’t you? I...
Exhibition By And For Margret Hopp
Margret Hopp has a huge archive of books (never bought if used) and artifacts and 17th century Dutch painting and, although she’s always been against it as a medium, sculpture.
The collection sits two floors below her bedroom, directly beneath her bed, hidden. It wants to feel loved and it is, but only by Margret, who won’t share.
Money Can Do Everything
There was once a prince as rich as cream, who took it into his head to put up a palace right across the street from the king’s, but a palace far more splendid than the king’s. Once it was finished, he put on its front in bold lettering: MONEY CAN DO EVERYTHING.
Italo Calvino
Gallery Visit
Landscape with a village road and figures conversing in the right foreground and landscape with a farmyard and figure drawing water from a well.
Beer
Ben and I met at a party. I don’t normally go to parties. I hate alcohol and I’m not the biggest fan of people. I’ve got massive hands. Handshakes are always awkward and first impressions are important. I haven’t had a girlfriend in years.
Cliffs
That’s not Dave and I, in the picture, jumping from the cliff. That’s not Dave and I having a really good time jumping from a huge cliff without really knowing how deep the water is. If Dave and I were together and found a cliff, we would discuss the possibility of jumping but decide not to on account of not knowing, exactly - because to be honest, we’d both estimate that there...
Shifts
At the moment we’re taking it in turns to sleep. It’s hers now. I’ll take up the reigns later, like normal, while she works. We’re sleeping in shifts. This is no weekend.