I'll Try Not to use the Word 'Farcical'

My 2 year old niece Maddy seems to have a fascination for skeletons. She has a small plastic one that she calls Mr Bonesy. When I ask her what she wants me to draw for her, she usually says, 'a skeleton'. It's a bit repetitive so yesterday I tried to vary it a bit. I said, 'What about a skeleton on a bicycle?' She said, 'No way.' Well, here it is Maddy. 'Way'. She's also quite fond of a 3 inch plastic Beethoven doll that my brother bought my Dad for Christmas. She calls it Mr Toven.

I'm grumpy today as my head feels all inflamed after my poetry reading yesterday, which was somewhat of a challenge. I'll try not to use the word 'farcical.' Whoops, I just have. It was in a cafe where most people were far more interested in their lunchtime baked potatoes and coleslaw. Fair enough. The kitchen was open plan (lots of clanging plates etc) and in the middle of one poem, the waiter shouted out, 'Two teas?' My sister Jude commented, 'Did you make a spelling mistake then?'

Still, I was grateful to be asked. Thanks to Francis for helping out. One older man bought a book and I got free fish and chips. I'm off to wrap my head in vinegar and brown paper.

-C

The Poet is IN

When I was younger I was consoled by the image of Lucy waiting in her shrink's booth, available for advice. I wanted to go to her and I wanted to be her. A win / win situation.

I talked to a friend today who works for an arts centre and they are collaborating with the council to try to set up some 'poetry in the community' events. One proposed idea (and my friend was hesitant about it) was to have poets-in-residence in a city park for a day. He asked if I would be interested in taking part. We postulated the ways in which this might or might not work.

I thought of Lucy's booth and I imagined the concept of a similar poetry booth that read 'The poet is IN'. Random passers-by could sit down with their poetic dilemmas. They could be inspired.

Or...they could receive constructive criticism of their first attempts at poetry and get offended. Neds could shout 'poyems are pish man, show us yer baps.' Dogs could lift their leg to pee on the edge of the booth. It could pelt down rain. Through great suffering art might come. But I still don't know if I'll do it.

My downstairs neighbour has a new dog called Tilly. I'm quite excited about the possibility of part-time dog friendship. I'll let you know how it goes.

-C

Big French Ones

That's ma pals -Marisa and Stuart in a Paris photo shoot. (Warning -kidding on you're smoking can seriously make you look like Jean Paul what's-his-face)

-C

You Shoot Me All Night Long

Well yesterday was my birthday (thirty-twelveteen). I rested up in the day to go to Belle & Sebastian in the evening. I share a birthday with Stevie from the band so Stuart made an announcement and sang Happy Birthday to us both. I wormed my way down the front and was waving up but he didn't see me. Doh! Missed my chance to play tambourine or just stand on stage looking chuffed yet semi-mortified.

But it meant I was in the front row when they broke into an AC/DC cover. When Stuart and I met (in 1991) we were surprised to find each other to be onetime AC/DC fans. Heavy Metal was a big craze on Islay (small island where I grew up). Even with my Lady Diana hairstyle and knickerbockers, I would join in the head banging at school dances. Eh? (Bewildered and lost for words now). Anyway, the band gave it Welly last night and it took me back to being 14 again, which is no bad thing, every now and then. No lasting brain damage...well , none that's visible on a MRI scan anyway.

At the after-show party there were two inebriated girls who kept shouting random questions at Stuart, like 'Can we sleep at your house?' His girlfriend Marisa told them that regretfully there was no room. They asked her 'Don't you wish the world was always like his lyrics?' Marisa is American so she didn't understand their drunken slurs. At one point they tried to tell Stuart that they saw Isobel (ex B&S cellist) trapped inside a suitcase at the Bowlie weekender, so I'm not sure a full translation was necessary.

-C

The way that you do it?

The caption for this cartoon is Home alone and bored. When I was bored as a teenager my Dad used to say 'Only boring people are bored.' What?! I thought he was missing the point. I get it now. You can't just expect excitement to be delivered, gift wrapped, from outside sources. You have to make your own.

Permission to moan? I'm bored. It's a classic wet January day. I don't have full resources to de-bore myself. My energy is drastically depleted and I'm stuck in bed. It's so same-y with chronic ME. I want to go out and run about but I can't. I want to work in an exciting newspaper office or a TV studio or on a film set . I want to walk through the wardrobe door and come out on to a tropical beach. My cells tingle at the very thought.

But, But, But, my friends....I know, yes; I know that moans provide temporary relief and then outstay their welcome - for both the moaner and the moanee.

I have a few social things coming up. I have been asked to do a poetry reading in far away kingdom, East Kilbride. I can still enjoy my friends and family. I am not being tortured in Guantanamo bay. So there is a lot to be thankful for. Let us not forget the immortal words of Bananarama: It's not what you do, it's the way that you do it. Will that wash? I'm not sure; I'll have to think about it. Or not.

-C

Brokeback Mountain

Behold the eye candy for girls and gaysters. Great film, now I'll have to read the story by Annie Proux.

Larry David (Seinfield and Curb Your Enthusiasm) wrote an opinion piece in the New York times saying he couldn't be dragged to the film as he might suddenly find two cowboys kissing somewhat arousing and as a straight man, that's all a bit too scary. I thought it was a brave thing to admit but a (straight male) friend of mine thought Larry David was being disingenuous, homophobic, and was missing on a great film.

-C

Tired and Emotional

This is the number one hit for the phrase 'tired and emotional' on Google image search. I thought it was some kind of modern art. It's sliced betroots from an organic gardening blog. So, I'm away under the duvet. I may be a while.

-C