Archive for July, 2014

Thursday, July 31st, 2014



Alan Dean & His Problems
The Birds of Prey
Benny Parker & The Dynamics
Elmer Gantry’s Velvet Opera
Flip & The Dateliners

Wednesday, July 30th, 2014


Keep up. If you don’t follow this you’ll get lost.

& in honour of our travels I translate this thus:
脑子转得快一点. 如果你不紧跟我的思路,最后你会不知道我在说什么.

Tuesday, July 29th, 2014


Let’s dig a hole
and look for coal
or gold
and if we find neither we can live in it.

Monday, July 28th, 2014


Poems can be anything, he said.
Fuck the pedants and scholars – it’s difference that matters.

His famous last words.

Sunday, July 27th, 2014


Babe, do you like my mind? I’m thinking of leaving it to you when I check out, in exchange for the use of your “private clothing” while you are away.

Saturday, July 26th, 2014


Listening to Station to Station as I take the bus from airport to bus station

Friday, July 25th, 2014


When non-being takes over I shall
walk the endless tree-lined avenues
admonishing the peasants for their
laxity. It was a duty in this life
and it will be a pleasure in the next.

Thursday, July 24th, 2014



If appearance really appears, it is not nothing, and is therefore part of reality ….. If appearance does not really appear, why trouble our heads about it? But perhaps someone will say: “Appearance does not really appear, but it appears to appear.” This will not help, for we shall ask again: “Does it really appear to appear, or only apparently appear to appear?” Sooner or later, if appearance is even to appear to appear, we must reach something that really appears, and is therefore part of reality. Plato would not dream of denying that there appear to be many beds, although there is only one real bed, namely the one made by God. But he does not seem to have faced the implications of the fact that there are many appearances, and that this many-ness is part of reality.

from Bertrand Russell, The History of Western Philosophy, Chapter XV (1945)

Wednesday, July 23rd, 2014



On the turntable Malcolm and The Countdowns are spinning out of control, Malcolm’s heart having been stolen away by a post-war party girl. (Notice how he doesn’t say his heart’s been ripped from his chest.)

Tuesday, July 22nd, 2014


I love it when their traditional songs drift out of the bars of an evening to rise on the chill night air toward the twinkling stars and I forget how in our kitchen a plan’s being hatched to sabotage the future.