Hopscotch, bunny boilers and Mondrian.

Easter leads me to think of bunny boilers.

I thought that frightening until tonight when a friend showed me the easter eggs lovingly ( and suspiciously) perfectly made by his girl friend; they had messages on them (exquisitely written in melted while chocolate; as good as if Mondrian had marked out your hopscotch squares on the pavement) which kind of spooked me.

The messages read(subliminally): Die you bastard!

But he is a chocoholic. I know he will ignore my warnings and fall in love.

One day he will fill the cracks in the pavement with alcohol.

The pitfalls of bearded snogging and Lucky 7.

I know I've been lazy. It has been easter and all that that entails; there has been no one on the streets and no observations to make. I did however have a fantastic lunch on Monday cooked by the woman who wears the trousers in Notting Hill. Fantastic for many reasons(as well as the food being brilliant) including the fact that no-one needed to introduce cocaine into the equation. Met some new friends there... Good.

I'm also trying to organise the next event; venues are tricky people to deal with, they think that they are the stars. I'm the promoter. I'm the fucking star; oi no brown m and n's babydoll.

I have however been considering the pitfalls of gay snogging among bearded men; specifically the velcroic nature of beards... What on earth do you tell your wife when you arrive home in the early hours of the morning (after a drunken snog in the alley behind Lucky 7) with a bearded scotsman stuck to your face?

Does a bucket of cold water work?

In my case I would say: Darling, I was snogging this Scotsman behind Lucky 7 and his beard got stuck to mine... Working on the assumption that none of my wives have ever believed a single word I say, they would dismiss this as poppycock and look for a thoroughly red blooded and heterosexual explanation involving booze, football, rock n roll and Russian tarts.

Lucky 7. Westbourne Park Road. London W2.

Hope I get a free portion of fries for this plug.

Somehow I doubt it.

The muse is dead.

Long live the muse.

Something to talk about.

With converse you always have something to talk about.

Let's talk about Vans

Great American literature.

I've given up on Bukowski and given up on Kerouac too.

Gone back to Cormack McCarthy. Reading 'Child of god' and blown away by the way McCarthy's lyricism can convince me to feel compassion for the most despicable of human beings.

This man is the greatest living writer in America.

Sad things can be funny and funny things can be sad.

the other day I watched a blind man try to walk down the street with a disobedient guide dog. That dog was exploring every tangent, every smell, every piss smeared tree and every food stain on the pavement.

The blind guy was dragging at and cadjoling his seeing eye dog. And getting very pissed off in the process.

Is it fair to see humour in this.

Tonight I asked a very beautiful young woman what she would like to drink. she said she would like a pint of piss coloured beer.

I'd like you to think that I'm making this up... But I'm not.

There is a point to life and when you find it it is wonderful.

Notting Hill bull shit.

I have truly had enough of the bullshit that surrounds me.

OK. I live in Notting Hill. That does not mean that I have to put up with the shit thrown my way.

Went to the Pelican tonight to hear some music. I'm sure the guys involved were well intentioned but it was crap.

I voiced my opinion, which I think is fair enough.

Then I got shit for being honest. One should never be honest at friends gigs, because if a mate is playing you tell the world it is good.

Hey like friends like being lied to. I don't think so.

It was appalling.

I enjoy immensely being told the truth... By people I respect.

Especially if they are buying the beer.

Happy Easter. I wish I had gone to see 'Tony' instead. Fuck I've plugged it again.

Milliners crossing

Gerard, who is a film maker; made a film called Tony (oh fuck, I've just plugged it again) said to me this evening that I should put the following on the blog:

You know that film called Millers crossing, It's got hats in every scene. If you CGI'd everything out of it save the hats and the dialogue you'd have a really cool film.

milliners crossing.

You bet we were drinking.

Canned bums.

Tristan calls.

He says to my answering machine: 'Hey Jannie, that film featuring my bum is going to be shown at Cannes. I've been invited to go over there. Never thought my bum would make it in the movies.

Nurse Caz (who had a role in the film) said my bum was too thin and scrawny but I reckon it will appeal to the effete French sensibilities.

I need a holiday, haven't had one for years. It is also an opportunity to meet up with some people I've yet to meet. Talk soon.'

Bukowski, ice hockey and nobility.

He said:

Your aspirations are noble but irrelevant.

that shut me up.

For a while at least

Then I realised he'd been watching ice hockey all night

sucking on beers the way Bukowski liked to talk

noble but irrelevant

I felt good.

Noble even.

Scared dog in the alley.

No muse.

Yet I sense a muse creeping up on me. I can feel her breath on the back of my neck.

Hackles rise.

I am a scared dog in an alley

Overjoyed by the fear I sniff on piss stained things

Glad to tear open a binbag of creativity

and then worms

With the muse

etc etc etc

Stats

The guys here are talking basketball stats.

I never thought I would ever write that.

But stats is stats and stats never lie.

I'm writing about stats and that is a stat.

Slam dunk.

Hugo and IS

Sitting at home dealing with stuff that needs to be dealt with.

A professor in Massachusetts reminds me of how it is as an artist... 43 years ago in his kitchen I saw a burnt toad in the hole hanging on the wall above a door. That was when I first realised that art could be anything you wanted it to be. I have been burning sausages ever since.

I remember he was a schoolboy then and then he wasn't and then he was in a band to die for and then he wasn't and now he is a professor in America and what is the future tense of wasn't?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFU_1h7io0Y

Isn't I know is present; Isn't is in the building.

But what happens after isn't

Isn't has left the building... Ladies and gentlemen I give you... IS