Joy.

Sometimes when in a dark place someone will come along and light a match. Every once in a while that match will be used to light a candle. Very occasionally that candle will be used to find the switch...

To turn on the sun.

It is dazzling.

Dodi and my girl.

An ex girlfriend once told me she used to be Dodi Al Fayed's lover.

but it is all right, he was such a coke head he couldn't get it up and I never had an orgasm.

Have you ever had an orgasm? I asked.

I don't think so. She replied.

But it doesn't matter because he was always out of it and wouldn't know and I made out like he pleased me for the money.

I asked: Did he know he was your lover?

No! She said... He was always out of it.

and

Now he is dead I can say what I want... What's an orgasm?

Freedom of speech.

I am so tempted.

Dead puppies and the law.

An exhausting day spent with my legal team. I had initially been accused of shooting Bambi's mother but I had an alibi for that one.

Now they have come at me again with the charge of shooting a puppy.
I'm denying it of course although that in itself is hazardous as I WAS present at the shooting of said puppy but did not pull the trigger. I remember blogging about the incident months ago.

My only real defence is to point the finger at someone else but that may lead to accusations of another variety.

Gosh the law is complicated.

An unexpected memory.

An unexpected request from the ex Mrs Nieupjur arrived today. A short text message asking: Do you have a copy of the marriage certificate?

I immediately went to my box of cherished items and there it was, evidence of a memory like a wine stained menu card from a fondly remembered meal.

Surely her request can only mean one thing.

She was a good wife, as wives go. And as good wives go, she went. (apologies to Saki)

A chance encounter with Art.

I happened to walk past the Lisson Gallery this afternoon. Before I had realised where I was I had looked down into the gallery space and assumed that what I was looking at was a Kindergarten that had yet to be tidied up at the end of playtime.

I didn't bother going in.

I'm sure it was very interesting though.

http://www.lissongallery.com/

Criticism and creativity.

Curious how we like to use the internet to find what we want; be it pornography, self aggrandisement, a date, casual sex, old friends, flattery, our own name in print, a photograph of ourself we particularly like.

The last thing we expect or want to find is criticism yet criticism is the best thing we can find.

Criticism sharpens the pencil, cleans the mirror, asks questions and demands an answer.

I quite often find that the criticism defines the critic rather than his target. The critic really wants to talk about himself, but there isn't really anything worth talking about so ' let's criticise everything around me and try to make out that I am better'. There are very few creative critics, there are many creative objects of their criticism.

Criticism breeds creativity in order to feed off it.

Creativity just gets on with it's stuff and doesn't give a fuck.

Legal advice from Mr Bounce.

An interesting chat with Mr Bounce the barrister today regarding what does or does not constitute harassment.

The law states that if the act is intended to expose a crime or prevent a crime it cannot be considered harassment.

Therefore I have every right to expose Tristan's crimes against literature and art.

(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Party)

French letter.

I have recently received a letter containing some advice on courtesy.

Nothing wrong with that except that it came from a Frenchman who tucks his sweater into leather (lace -up fly) trousers.

Ouch!

Hacker

Someone has hacked into this blog this morning... I have an ominous feeling about this.

St George: Whatever happened to chivalry?

Long, long ago a knight, while riding through a forest, came upon a familiar scene:

Roped to a tree was a white gowned damsel. A damsel most certainly in distress. Leering over her was a dragon. there was the usual smoke from the nostrils and stench of rotting flesh.

The knight dismounted, approached the dragon while unsheathing his sword.

'Stop!' Cried the damsel and dragon in unison. 'If you kill the dragon you will kill us both for we are two halves of the same beast'.

'But if I do not kill the dragon it will surely kill you'. The knight said to the damsel.

'No it won't'. She replied. 'This is just a game we play to entertain ourselves'.

The knight sheathed his sword, mounted his horse and rode away to the sound of jeering from the damsel and dragon.

The last words he heard were: Whatever happened to chivalry.

Haircut and love.

To Tristan's place this evening. He had asked me round to cut his hair... Sure, no problem, glad to.

As a barber I had expected to talk of holidays and something for the weekend and did you see that film called Tony ( fuck I've plugged it again) you know the one with the serial killer with the bonkers haircut and if you don't tip me proper I'll give you one of those.

But no. He wanted to talk about poetry and love and the best kind of . As if I would know.

Shit. I'm only the barber mate. what do I know.

'Jan.' He said. 'I hope you know not to run at me with those scissors'.

Ok. I said. I'll walk. That way I can be more accurate.

Anything for the weekend?