Dream of a Plumb Line

Asleep in bed, I travelled to a field.
I have never seen a place so flat.
The horizon was the only scenery.
Here and there were tufts of longer grass.
I’d pick a piece and holding it upright,
Blow a buzzing note that rolled away.

As I walked, I came across a plumb line,
A small lead weight that hung straight down
On the end of a string. The string went
Up into the sky. It hung straight down.
The weight was small enough to fit
Into my hand. In a land of horizontals
It was solitary. I left it there
And continued walking.

Two Bad Jokes:

So I used to have this dream that one day I'd play a cover of a fairly early Bob Dylan song and it would be REALLY GOOD but for some reason whenever I played it it came out a bit flat and a bit uninteresting, and I spent hours and hours practising it and trying to make it come alive and take off and actually, for a while it was a bit of an obsession and actually getting a bit damaging to my day to day routine, whole days spent doing nothing but playing it over and over again to try and make it work, but in the end I got a bit sick of it, and I just thought nah, fuck this, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's Farm no more.

What do London commuters wear in chilly weather to get on and off public transport quickly and efficiently?

Oyster Cardigans.

Also, I did a spot of Guest DJing (along with DJ Starwars, if you know her) on Death To The Author Can Fuck Off the other night, you can listen here, if you want http://rs787.rapidshare.com/files/336283130/DTTA2010show1.mp3

Also, check out what I did to my phone!

Doesn't it look cool?

It's dead.

Bloggery

The last few weeks have been pretty interesting. In between phases of Kurt Vonnegut fug, there have been many vaguely interesting and loosely dramatic things going on, which I have had ample time to ruminate on from the warm confines of the belly of the whale. I've made two observations which I thought warranted posting with a sort of inescapable Polonius bullcrappery:

1) You can take responsibility for someone else's happiness, but you shouldn't.

2) It is the prerogative of the individual to calibrate their own problems.

That is pretty much all.

Also, for the sake of some colour, here is a picture, you should click on it, it's great fun.

The Challenge

Looking ahead was only a way

To see what was backwards -

A mirror blocked my path:

My own reflection blocked my way.

A tea-bag brushed the lip of the pot

As it orbited around in the space above,

And as it moved away the pot closed itself.

I turned the corner past the church,

With a bass guitar!

Soon the banging sound was all drowned out

By noise explosions!

My fingers were alive -

I drew a smile without opening my mouth!

Without words! A triumph worth? One hundred pounds!

Back to square one. But someone else is here, now, too.

Really trying to align this sense of a routine,

But my goodness, but how it is quiet here.

Just our footsteps down the well-lit street -

The pavement shimmered,

And your fingers

Came alive!

Looking up, the snow was charcoal

Against a chalky sky. Looking down, it was white

Against a wet black wall.

It was a matter of inclination.

You are not some paltry image!

Good grief. What is that under your skin, telling a different story?

I knew it. Come here!

What I learnt about Growing Down, when done backwards in Time.

People only grow in one direction, or two.

Your parent’s dull routine becomes your childhood mythology -

The cuckoos in the forest out the window of the cottage

Where you visited your grandma for a week,

And your grandpas box of maggots, which you could never believe,

Are resonant things. And so memories are left to rot,

Like poems, perhaps the ones you know you will not finish.