So all clen with nice fresh undies on I left the Brendan's in the direction of Princess Pavilions, where i wa struck with the name of my next book in a long line of publication that Ihaven't written yet 'The girl that always arrives alone' other titels include 'The Kennel Bell', 'The Guys got Prudence', 'My Beloved Shoes' and many many more I think maybe this could be the title for my epic romatic love story that I've just had the perfect ending for. Hmmm I should really try to remember what those other titles are, there scribbled somewhere in those many spiral bound notebooks. I'll look them out and update you if you're interested.
So Suzanne Vega that was good, never did see Pete who was Brendan's friend who was meant to be attending to. Did I mention that? Paul Chaney was there with Kenna and the afore mentioned Matt. Who I think is now angry with me for describing him as very messy and asked that it might be ammended to 'creatively organised'. What was cool about Suzanne Vega was she had a few more hits than I could remember. Whatsmore is unlike alot female singer/songwriters (this is a generaliation, with no offence intended) that seh was writing and singing about wider issues like child abuse and war and other stuff. Much more entertaining than he left me, or I'm with him, or I'm happy/ unhappy........ great I'm really not intrested I have alot of those feeling myself. Of course I have to slightly back on that Nina Simone, Nina could do everything, Nina is able to tell you every feeling that you might never be capable of feeling because your life simply wasn't that interesting. I found out that I had the same middle name as Nina Simone in her birth name last year and it was one of the greatest revelations of my life. So pleased.
So that Suznne Vega, well not quite abd it will probably come up later. Martin had to leave half way through due to the emothional collapse of Bobalina. Chris was pissing me off, i'm not that sure why? We were all going to go on a magical mystery tour to Troubador and meet up with the Wives bu by the time we'd got the top of High Street, they had come hurtling towards us paused and moved on. Jame would not be returning to the studio. Luckily the star was open.
On arriving in the star I was greeted by the exuberant tones of "Hey Sparky" from Mich (code name: Moyshe McStiff). Mich was looking rather well. Then provided me with the best entertainment of the night by having to hop of his bar stool and than hobble to the downstairs, as he had a broken foot. Mich took it with great spirits what would you expect from a Scottish Jew who grew up in central London - confused you will be. Well after this little exchange Mich returned and decided to join us complaining that Brendan was meant to meet him but hadn't. Phone calls were made and Brendan arrived shortly after.
MIch decinding to join us (Matt, me and Chris) was the indaction of a minor sysmic shift in what is the Music world of Falmouth. Chris had managed to call a very talented guitarist friend of Mich's a c**t, during a recording session at Chris's music studio several years previous. Needless to say Mich and Chris had had exchanged few words since.
However there is a lot to be said of having a common enemy. Mr Munding. and if you chck out falmouthwharves.blogspot.com you'll find out more about that. Mich had had a run in wiht this guy twenty years ago and was familiar with his game plan anyways.........barriers were taken down and maybe we they can be friend again.
There the night begun after the star was Brendan's, there was no achohol but the grenadine an milk sure did tate nice. Joyce and Glan turned up from the initial party (for teh Irish girl) with some opened bottles of wine. Glen and Brendan had some kind of mulit lightter lighting competition and Chris passed out on the bed (Futon). Mich had hobbled off down high street with his broken foot understandably. Chris and I left the party at 3.00am exactly.
Tonight Chris has been mixing Dakota next door with Craig, Dakota's main guy. I had a really nice little adventure with Dom, Fe and Ella into town on their little dingy a wee half in the star and rowed back. Being dropped of at the end of Falmouth Wharves it was a bit of a bond mission trying to get the shopping including two pot noodles back into Pearces Mill without the initial aid of a carrier bag.
The boat trip was great we saw Dougie in his waterside hut and on the way back an orange moon rising over Trefusis point and Flushing. Photographs of the moon rising like that very rarely do it justice or have been enhanced so much it loses it's quality. Photo's can be hard to get right. Though it's moment like this when you understand that Falmouth really can be an amazing place to live. Not that I live here. I don't live anywhere not right now. The moon rising over the harbour has got to be one of it's greatest assets. So the best things in life are free................ Ella fell asleep in th dinghy as Fe rowed and sung to her in spanish, we were all greatful for Dom's bargain baller.
Sunday 20 July 2008
Oh Bunny Rabbit
blah, blah , blah , blah , blah, blah. Every time I phone Troubador studio I have to talk gibberish for ten seconds while Chris decides to pick up the phone. The reason for this is, is that Chris keeps on getting hourly calls from the Halifax as he has stopped paying the credit card bill. If only we could all do it. Well we can. In fact if we all did the global economy would go through a secondary crash and we'd have to think of something more practical to replace monetary systems.
So eighties cartoons and the values of you tube. You tube is good.
Yesterday started with breakfast at 1pm breakfast was accompanied by beer ................ fourteen hours later we ended up back at Troubador with Campbell who stayed over.
The day previous, when I left you I'd headed out to meet Brendan in order to take advantage of his bathing facilities. He wasn't in the Star and I ended up meeting him at his flat fifteen minutes later than we'd planned. He was with a guy called Pete who's a technician at the college. (never go there) They were on their way to an Irish girls leaving party. I'd never met her. So off they toddled to the party after they had filled Brendan's rather attractive leather satchel like bag with a number of goodies including humus, vine tomatoes and red wine. After I had gone to the gem(best chippy in town) and eaten some cheesy chips at the viewing point, that's view had been obscured by the new buildings in front. Anyways Brendan turned back up, having forgotten his satchel like leather bag packed full of goodies.
I then had a bath, using brown sugar and soap to exfoliate my legs and face I'd felt dirty for a few days and this was the only way I was going to feel clean. There a lot you can tell about someone from whats in there bathroom, like thickening hair shampoo, the same soap that I use and some kind of pink anti-bacterial skin wash. The most fascinating thing about the bathroom was the bathroom itself. Brendan's flat, which was in fact Harold's before him. Is a basement flat set on the corner at the top of a very steep set of stairs. The flat has very low ceilings, one of Brendan's favourite things to do is stand with his head touching the ceiling. Which give me irrational shivers.
The bathroom suite is primrose yellow with steel taps with the four pronged cogs on the top. The bathroom being in a basement flat also had a number of issues with condensation. As a result of this all the wallpaper had peeled off, leaving a familiar and homely black mould pattern on all of the walls. I balanced my gold bow necklace on the towel rail, the bag of sugar on the closed toilet seat and the soap, in a soap holder on the corner of the bath before hoping in. I had already been glad to discover that Brendan had some apple shampoo , which was good because I had no shampoo. Baths are often misconstrued as something luxurious. However there are still many houses in Britain that don't have showers. My parents being one of them. Getting in the bath, as bath necessity user is very different from getting in the bath as a bath luxury user. It's hard work all that scrubbing and exfoliating at least we have the luxury of knowing we won't fall over. There is something satisfactory about the slow discolouration of bath water as it slowly mucks up with your own bodily dirt. Anyway it was the most satisfying bath I've had in a long while.
Dom's just called and hes taking me out on the river rowing in exchange for baby sitting if this doesn't make any sense I'm sorry and I'll try to fill in the gaps later.
So eighties cartoons and the values of you tube. You tube is good.
Yesterday started with breakfast at 1pm breakfast was accompanied by beer ................ fourteen hours later we ended up back at Troubador with Campbell who stayed over.
The day previous, when I left you I'd headed out to meet Brendan in order to take advantage of his bathing facilities. He wasn't in the Star and I ended up meeting him at his flat fifteen minutes later than we'd planned. He was with a guy called Pete who's a technician at the college. (never go there) They were on their way to an Irish girls leaving party. I'd never met her. So off they toddled to the party after they had filled Brendan's rather attractive leather satchel like bag with a number of goodies including humus, vine tomatoes and red wine. After I had gone to the gem(best chippy in town) and eaten some cheesy chips at the viewing point, that's view had been obscured by the new buildings in front. Anyways Brendan turned back up, having forgotten his satchel like leather bag packed full of goodies.
I then had a bath, using brown sugar and soap to exfoliate my legs and face I'd felt dirty for a few days and this was the only way I was going to feel clean. There a lot you can tell about someone from whats in there bathroom, like thickening hair shampoo, the same soap that I use and some kind of pink anti-bacterial skin wash. The most fascinating thing about the bathroom was the bathroom itself. Brendan's flat, which was in fact Harold's before him. Is a basement flat set on the corner at the top of a very steep set of stairs. The flat has very low ceilings, one of Brendan's favourite things to do is stand with his head touching the ceiling. Which give me irrational shivers.
The bathroom suite is primrose yellow with steel taps with the four pronged cogs on the top. The bathroom being in a basement flat also had a number of issues with condensation. As a result of this all the wallpaper had peeled off, leaving a familiar and homely black mould pattern on all of the walls. I balanced my gold bow necklace on the towel rail, the bag of sugar on the closed toilet seat and the soap, in a soap holder on the corner of the bath before hoping in. I had already been glad to discover that Brendan had some apple shampoo , which was good because I had no shampoo. Baths are often misconstrued as something luxurious. However there are still many houses in Britain that don't have showers. My parents being one of them. Getting in the bath, as bath necessity user is very different from getting in the bath as a bath luxury user. It's hard work all that scrubbing and exfoliating at least we have the luxury of knowing we won't fall over. There is something satisfactory about the slow discolouration of bath water as it slowly mucks up with your own bodily dirt. Anyway it was the most satisfying bath I've had in a long while.
Dom's just called and hes taking me out on the river rowing in exchange for baby sitting if this doesn't make any sense I'm sorry and I'll try to fill in the gaps later.
Friday 18 July 2008
Warehouse woes
Cabin Fever has set in and Jamie has now opened my blog for me in an attempt for me to vent in a productive way. I had started to rant quite scarily at both Dom and Jamie, who had to; well not make excuses and just left. We or I were talking about a number of fascinating issues regarding Facebook as a digital anthropological system and written artwork (has it gone out of fashion?). Furthermore we were talking about husbands, borrowed husbands, rented husbands and marriage not being all it was cracked up to be. Further to this you can borrow other peoples babies without having to have one yourself. Men do not have the same goals as women because women are driven by a ticking biological clock. While men can still father children at 73 drop dead the next day, never really having to worry about the problem of child rearing at all. Emmett, Jeremy and Matt are all looking at a farm with outbuilding to buy, everyone pondered where Matt's money came from? Jamie concluded that he must have a reasonably well paid job. Further to this Jamie and Dom went on to discuss the possible success on the venture based on each contributers 'accepted' living standards. Outlining that Matt & partner were very messy and this was rather curious as partner was a cleaner. Emmett was homely and clean, while Jeremy was anally retentive and this was not exclusive to cleanliness. I was concerned that should I be allowed to go live in the scheme that it may end up like 'Friends' with essentially three potential couples all living in close proximity to one another. Emmett and Matt already being hooked up I thought that I might end up with Jeremy. Jamie told me not to worry because in 'Friends' you end up swapping about a bit and you never end up with the person you start off with. So it was probably best to get it on with Jeremy as soon as possible. Furthermore Jeremy has got lots of money.
So now Jamie and Dom have disappeared after enjoying cups of coffee/ herbal tea and are now beavering away on there very own squirrelling productions as am I, I suppose. Well done Jamie.
Written art works. For a long time now I've been very interested in mapping my or more every bodies global relationships - kinda like six degree of separation. I've also been interested in how to map 'the intimacy of relationships' like met, acquaintances, friends, true friends, loved and loved the best. See I've thought about it enough to make six headers already. So the artwork would be lists and can you remember everybody you ever met? Are you allowed to describe them or do you have to use names? How does the passage of time affect the categorisation of relationships know to knew. That's a funny one in terms of language. It demonstrates early on that human intimacy is susceptible to time and personal growth. Allowing people to grow apart. At eight we are friends forever by 15 we have moved on. How much do people change and grow over the course of a lifetime? How do we truly grow apart. These are my questions.
Chris is setting up for Suzanne Vega tonight. I'm suppose to met Brendan Byrne in the Star in eight minutes. So I can have a bath. I need to pack a bag, find some sugar and go to the toilet. I'll correct the spelling and possibly finish this properly later. I'll thank Jamie before I go. Five minutes...........
So now Jamie and Dom have disappeared after enjoying cups of coffee/ herbal tea and are now beavering away on there very own squirrelling productions as am I, I suppose. Well done Jamie.
Written art works. For a long time now I've been very interested in mapping my or more every bodies global relationships - kinda like six degree of separation. I've also been interested in how to map 'the intimacy of relationships' like met, acquaintances, friends, true friends, loved and loved the best. See I've thought about it enough to make six headers already. So the artwork would be lists and can you remember everybody you ever met? Are you allowed to describe them or do you have to use names? How does the passage of time affect the categorisation of relationships know to knew. That's a funny one in terms of language. It demonstrates early on that human intimacy is susceptible to time and personal growth. Allowing people to grow apart. At eight we are friends forever by 15 we have moved on. How much do people change and grow over the course of a lifetime? How do we truly grow apart. These are my questions.
Chris is setting up for Suzanne Vega tonight. I'm suppose to met Brendan Byrne in the Star in eight minutes. So I can have a bath. I need to pack a bag, find some sugar and go to the toilet. I'll correct the spelling and possibly finish this properly later. I'll thank Jamie before I go. Five minutes...........
Tuesday 15 July 2008
Things to be considered
Listening to Samuel Leonard Keith Leonard, a Falmouth song writer. I'm a bit disappointed that his myspace doesn't have my favourite song by him, which starts the i'n the North Atlantic Ocean many a man is lost at sea', beautiful. So this week has been pretty much your average week in Falmouth. Lots of socialising and creative ideas all that stuff. Living in the recording studio again with no hot water or an internal toilet but we do wake up looking over the water. Spent time out at Paul's super delux bender at the field. Emmett's dad has been here to. Yesterday we went to Stitians Show, prize sheeps, big cows, fluffy bunny rabbits and some very cute ducks. Has anybody ever tried a goose egg? Last night was folk night but we all just sat out on the quay with a pint. Any turned up with his triumph motrocycle and impresses alot of the hemmed in middle class boys. Jamie is next door painting and I'm hoping to head of to Durgan beach and grab an ice cream with clotted cream on top. Going to Andy's caravan out at Pennance Farm tonight. The funnier stuff is probably going to end up on falmouth.blogspot.com if you want to take alook.
Saturday 5 July 2008
Shamanic Party
I don't think I'm suppose to really write about this at all but considering my last couple of blogs about Catholicism it might be important to mention it. Black magic, shamanism, paganism, witchcraft, whatever you want to call it there is alot of it in Cornwall. I'm not judgmental about it. I'm curious about alot of spiritual paths, but not judgemental.
Hmmm except I am very judgemental about people overall. No matter what my emotional and psychological state might be I know a good person from a bad person and am acutely aware of those I will never get on with. Overall and this is a biggy I have a huge problem with southern English women. This is of course a generalism and does not apply to all. However southern English women are a little known entity within my social circles. As a rule they tend to instantaneously make me cringe. This is difficult as I do in fact live in Cornwall. Not English but definitely dominated by the English, very very difficult. Of course I might have got this whole train of thought wrong. Here's the thing. I'm honest, blunt and at times damn right abrupt and rude, if I feel the need. I love playing devil advocate. I do not suffer fools gladly, though can play the best fool of all, to the unsuspecting. So I'm not going to say anymore than on that.
'A loving person lives in a loving world a hostile person lives in a hostile world'. Hippie bullshitters that pretend to care about other people's shit generally can not deal with it. Casting people out comes from fear not from love and therefor what people seek if they are not prepared to love is selfishness. Whats more they lose the ability to receive love by not giving any. Or maybe it's all just a bad acid trip and to many drugs to no the difference between real and not real. If you now what I'm saying.
Hmmm except I am very judgemental about people overall. No matter what my emotional and psychological state might be I know a good person from a bad person and am acutely aware of those I will never get on with. Overall and this is a biggy I have a huge problem with southern English women. This is of course a generalism and does not apply to all. However southern English women are a little known entity within my social circles. As a rule they tend to instantaneously make me cringe. This is difficult as I do in fact live in Cornwall. Not English but definitely dominated by the English, very very difficult. Of course I might have got this whole train of thought wrong. Here's the thing. I'm honest, blunt and at times damn right abrupt and rude, if I feel the need. I love playing devil advocate. I do not suffer fools gladly, though can play the best fool of all, to the unsuspecting. So I'm not going to say anymore than on that.
'A loving person lives in a loving world a hostile person lives in a hostile world'. Hippie bullshitters that pretend to care about other people's shit generally can not deal with it. Casting people out comes from fear not from love and therefor what people seek if they are not prepared to love is selfishness. Whats more they lose the ability to receive love by not giving any. Or maybe it's all just a bad acid trip and to many drugs to no the difference between real and not real. If you now what I'm saying.
Badgers
yes badgers, I saw some they were cute and wild. That is mean to say that I didn't see them in the zoo. I've waited along time to see a badger and last night I saw three. Lucky old me. I'd seen one once before but i was driving and it was suck in front of me as I drove down a rather narrow Cornish lane with no exit, even fro a badger. So I just watched it's rather wide behind bolt down the lane in front of me until it found an exit gate. Today I'm in St Mawes, I'm visiting Chris's brother who lives here, in a very nice house with very nice views. it's windy and cold and it's summer, that's about all you need to know really.
Coming back to Cornwall I feel like times played a trick on me. You see I though I'd left but it would appear that someone just pressed the pause button briefly and has now pressed play again. Everything was as it was and I still haven't resigned from my job at the Greenbank, which means essentially I'm avoiding the place. That's it everyone is how they were. Time ticked on and we are all still the same people with the same relationships. Isn't that funny. I wonder what we'll get up to this evening. I'm working today and by that I mean writing lots of stuff with no pay. Nigel's computer is very nice and here is very relaxing, I like it. Tonight I hope to go out, bump into some people and have fun. Maybe I'll see you there.
I did find soemthing more profound to say after my last post but I didn't get round to it already, so I've mental noted it and it will come out sometime later. I hope this is satifactory.
Coming back to Cornwall I feel like times played a trick on me. You see I though I'd left but it would appear that someone just pressed the pause button briefly and has now pressed play again. Everything was as it was and I still haven't resigned from my job at the Greenbank, which means essentially I'm avoiding the place. That's it everyone is how they were. Time ticked on and we are all still the same people with the same relationships. Isn't that funny. I wonder what we'll get up to this evening. I'm working today and by that I mean writing lots of stuff with no pay. Nigel's computer is very nice and here is very relaxing, I like it. Tonight I hope to go out, bump into some people and have fun. Maybe I'll see you there.
I did find soemthing more profound to say after my last post but I didn't get round to it already, so I've mental noted it and it will come out sometime later. I hope this is satifactory.
Wednesday 2 July 2008
Travels Continued
Jami and Emmett left this morning. It was funny to see them go as breezily as they arrived.Jamie must be the only person so far who has greeted Greenock with so much enthusiasm. This morning he was even on the brink of bursting into song about it. Today what happened, not much. I managed to put the washing on and book a flight to Falmouth. I haven't sorted out the return journey yet and I'm sure London will be involved somewhere along the line. Watching 'City of Angels'. That's about it, would like to write something a bit more profound ...........
Tuesday 1 July 2008
back from another home
Oh you couldn't write it; seems to be a running theme in my life. I've just got back from a trip from the west coat of Scotland. I was with some friends from Cornwall (though they arn't actually from Cornwall. Who is?), we've been living out of a converted van called 'Scampi' and a £17 tent from a favourite friend 'Tesco'. Well if there's one thing I have to accept and humble myself about is one of the very few benefits of England. No midgies. I'm bitten all over and even discovered a tick on me this morning.
I'm not going to tell you where we went and what we got up to because I'm kind of against all that stuff. If somewhere or something's beautiful try to keep it to yourself. The 'Mona Lisa' would be far better if you didn't have to look at it behind glass. Do you hear what I'm saying?
My major high light has got to be visiting Basil's mother. This wouldn't be so funny unless you knew already that Basil's mother is dead. I've been to a lot of graveyards in my time. Except the rise in popularity of cremation, has prevented me the pleasure of standing on someone's grave that I knew. It's quite something to know that a body that you interacted with, that even made a cup of tea, is now partially decomposed and still rotting beneath your very feet. Digging deeper (pardon the pun) noticing the spaces either side of Mrs Forgrieve are empty; I enquire as to why? Basil explains that he has in fact purchased one for himself, while the other has been purchased by his brother, Duncan. Duncan is in fact the local gravedigger. However Basil's real delight comes to the fore during this excursion on viewing his older brother's gravestone. Not only would this be unusual to show delight at viewing your brother's gravestone but even more remarkable is the fact that his brother is not even dead yet. So there it was, the head stone engraved with and accordion with the make even marked on it. On the other side a Native American Indian, I asked Basil the significance - apparently 'the wife' just likes them. Only one hundred years or so for that arbitrary pictorial comment to play out in the mind of the bereaved Obanites. So there it is life and death played out in a very matter of fact way. At least the Forgrieves all know where there going next - a lot less to worry about, I say.
I'm not going to tell you where we went and what we got up to because I'm kind of against all that stuff. If somewhere or something's beautiful try to keep it to yourself. The 'Mona Lisa' would be far better if you didn't have to look at it behind glass. Do you hear what I'm saying?
My major high light has got to be visiting Basil's mother. This wouldn't be so funny unless you knew already that Basil's mother is dead. I've been to a lot of graveyards in my time. Except the rise in popularity of cremation, has prevented me the pleasure of standing on someone's grave that I knew. It's quite something to know that a body that you interacted with, that even made a cup of tea, is now partially decomposed and still rotting beneath your very feet. Digging deeper (pardon the pun) noticing the spaces either side of Mrs Forgrieve are empty; I enquire as to why? Basil explains that he has in fact purchased one for himself, while the other has been purchased by his brother, Duncan. Duncan is in fact the local gravedigger. However Basil's real delight comes to the fore during this excursion on viewing his older brother's gravestone. Not only would this be unusual to show delight at viewing your brother's gravestone but even more remarkable is the fact that his brother is not even dead yet. So there it was, the head stone engraved with and accordion with the make even marked on it. On the other side a Native American Indian, I asked Basil the significance - apparently 'the wife' just likes them. Only one hundred years or so for that arbitrary pictorial comment to play out in the mind of the bereaved Obanites. So there it is life and death played out in a very matter of fact way. At least the Forgrieves all know where there going next - a lot less to worry about, I say.
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