Accreditation from the the king of cool..
After a very, very late night which took in the island experiment at some point I awoke to a message telling me that Jarvis Cocker read one of my poems on the radio.... I'm off to sing 'common people' in the bath!
1 comment:
Hell, Tristan, you're keeping me up all night awaiting the next incident. Can I say that I know you WELL and that, better still, we share some family fortunes? Feeling like I need to return to the UK straight away and stop this idiocy here in France where the fame networking is lately latent and you are cruising well ahead of me, despite not being the best sailor of the bunch.
In the ether, where cool fraternal appraisals turn summersaults for tongues in cheek, there is hope now for great happenings. Could you arrange with Jarvis to look at one of my paintings? I believe he has a fellow feeling for 'Outsider Art' and can make an artist of me yet; another once humble off-spring of a great man, rescued from turning nasty at 60 through lack of recognition.
Meanwhile, in anticipation of some well earned late fame and adoration from a younger poseur, I am going to take a shower in the garden to cool my familial genes. Then I will strut and preen, a veritable cockatoo amongst cocktails.
Before I start scrubbing to get back to the essence and not so far back that I have to think about Quintessence playing at Goldsmiths in 1969, I must consider my age in this epoch of youth and uncertainty. I know it's getting a bit late in life to ask this of my intended admirers: but do I have the right attitude for a brooding painter? You know what I mean - that unapproachability mistaken for 'genius' by critics of style who also use terms like 'nightmare' and 'completely' to describe a bad situation involving the family cat.
Is there someone out there in the know: the ultimate play maker? I am just beginning to realise that monopolising your comments box could be my only route to good fortune.
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