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.
Wednesday, 2 May 2012
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And that is lovely. See you later. x
ReplyDeleteThat's nice. I got a different joke in my cracker...
ReplyDeleteBehold 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
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.
ReplyDeletewe too are won
ReplyDeletethe spectacles are multiple
until they form a handsome pair
the madman knows her scatterbrain
is somehow one with all that's there