Wednesday, 2 May 2012

Staring at the ceiling, waiting for the muse

Did you have a go? Did you polish, and see your own magnificent multi-faceted reflection? Your beautiful mind?

This is called sculpture.

Now Will, yours is going to look opaque, Michelangelo rather lovely, Hancock not there. Art is tourettes you see. There are different levels.

I would describe Beethoven as looking 'particularly arduous'. Know when you're beat, and try something else. Put the CD on. The correct attitude is not resentment, it is 'Thank fuck I can't do that one'.

Now that ceiling I would call 'The most magnificent prank ever played'. I see the comedians the easiest. Monkhouse was a faker, WLC if you like, Sellers wasn't there. He was an actor.

Look Damien! What's he pointing at? He used to do anatomy. You can't.

Now I do requests for the muse. I find them odd. If she were to say do Burns say, it would translate as 'Walk a long way, learn an accent, then photocopy this poem, that I've already got in my hand, in order that I may read it'.

But I don't mind at all. I can breathe her. She gives me life. She can breathe life into me. Without her I am clay. We are in align. Without her I am dead. She gives me the kiss of life.

This is love.


  1. And that is lovely. See you later. x

  2. That's nice. I got a different joke in my cracker...

    Behold the season's stocking
    Suspended from the breast
    It's bound to get a stuffing
    Cos it stands out from the rest
    For those who seek a pairing
    Recall the fatal flaw
    Of looking for a partner
    When you're in the odd sock drawer
    Once upon a story
    Our hosen was well-matched
    But started to unravel
    On a snag - so it detached
    From the ensuing tangle
    Fate knitted and devised
    A fetching near replacement
    (If you half screwed up your eyes)
    In too familiar fashion
    Reknitted had a run
    On finer fabric options
    So this couple came undone
    Odd sock became world weary
    And so it now resides
    Most often somewhere hidden
    Seeking love from its insides
    But here it's found another
    Worn through and full of holes
    They've patched up one another
    Now they're no more threadbare soles
    To see this hapless union
    Might prompt a double-take
    Yet kindness burns far longer
    Than a passionate Miss Take

  3. The Schizoid Garment4 May 2012 at 07:50

    So trousers are plural even when there's only one of them and you shouldn't cheat at rhyming with a repeated word. It's a funny old tongue. Why have ten toes when you can have ten foot-finger or five foals when you can have five baby-horse? As the Persians would say. I say Hafez had an easier job with all those grammatical persons lingering at the ends of verbs. He had the Shiraz grape juice and sunshine too of course.

  4. Spectacular Vernacular4 May 2012 at 14:28

    we too are won

    the spectacles are multiple
    until they form a handsome pair
    the madman knows her scatterbrain
    is somehow one with all that's there