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Les Bouches

  Sun 14th August 2011

Magistrates Courts sitting on a Sunday. Immediate punishment for the poor, endless latitude for the selfish rich sequestering the money this country needs to address the problems inarticulately articulated by the rioters. And worse, the tax dodgers are doing it with the collusion of the government.

I have just passed Nationwide Building Society's window, and felt like putting a foot through it. A poster shows a woman from behind in a dressing gown, cuddling a baby holding a teddy bear by its arm. "The kindest thing you can do." And a URL for some website on which you can buy insurance. The privatisation and commercialisation of the most fundamental sentiment of all, that of caring for one's children. Big business and their lapdog directors can pay, won't pay.

I waited for Denise outside Imran's Punjabi Buffet, where a man can entertain a lady and still have change from fifteen quid. I saw her before she saw me and moved a foot back from her sightlines to drink in her looks. As all attractive women do, she immediately started apologising. Every man who likes a women has to reserve the first five minutes of seeing her to appease the endlessly varied recitation of female self-dislike. "Denise, you look gorgeous. What spots?" She pointed to some barely perceptible imperfections in her skin, as if anyone would notice those over her flowing ginger hair, her tightly-fitting dress with inch-wide white straps, her scarlet flat patent leather shoes, the colour of which sends me back to her hair to look at her sexy dressy symmetry again.

Our fingers locked together over the table and we inched closer. "I love the way your hair falls over your tits," that kind of thing. "Those texts you send me, looby. I save them and read them to myself. It's nice that [redacted] makes you feel like that."

"...Ever since I first saw you, at Bloom and Doom," I replied. I described the time when she came to my desk holding a fax which I had to do something about. She was standing behind me; I was looking obliquely at the hem of her skirt, thinking how tall and well dressed she was. We started meeting in the canteen at lunch. "A part of me feels dead when I'm here," she said one day.

We said goodbye at the bus station and it was all I could do to nod and keep my hands off her, but I did, and she smiled back at me, pleased with me for respecting a boundary.

In other drink-related news, I've inadvertently invited Ingrid to a wine tasting next month by dint of my inability to master an email program I've been using for ten years. I hope it will go OK. Last time we went to a wine tasting she turned rather loudly drunk and unsteady, and I felt embarrassed by association as she missed her footing on les bouches du Rhône. At the bus stop on the way home she repeatedly told me it will only be friends, to which I gladly agreed. Then she stayed on the bus beyond her stop to get off with me and seemed to be angling for an exploration of her mouth, which aroused excited neither my interest nor anything else. Denise's mouth, on the other hand, arouses both my


Hey, what’s the big idea? There’s no redacting in blog land! Please PM the redacted portion of this post right away.

I haven’t been on a date in over 15 years. I always enjoyed dating. Dating in New York City is easy. There’s so much to do.

Tue 16th August 2011 @ 13:50
Comment from: [Member]

All I can say, on a family-orientated blog such as this, is that Denise possesses some personal characteristics which I find most fascinating and would be worthy of closer attention were she not already spoken for.

I love internet dating. It’s great fun, you build up some good stories to use down the pub, and I’ve acquired a couple of very good friends from it. And occasionally, sex actually involves someone else.

Tue 16th August 2011 @ 13:57

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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

M / 57 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.

There are plenty of bastards who drink moderately. Of course, I don't consider them to be people. They are not our comrades.
Sergei Korovin, quoted in Pavel Krusanov, The Blue Book of the Alcoholic

I am here to change my life. I am here to force myself to change my life.
Chinese man I met during Freshers Week at Lancaster University, 2008

The more democratised art becomes, the more we recognise in it our own mediocrity.
James Meek

Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying music, for instance, or a beautiful evening, or a conversation in agreeable company, it all seems no more than a hint of some infinite felicity existing apart somewhere, rather than actual happiness – such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess?
Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

I hate the iPod; I hate the idea that music is such a personal thing that you can just stick some earplugs in your ears and have an experience with music. Music is a social phenomenon.
Jeremy Wagner

La vie poetique has its pleasures, and readings--ideally a long way from home--are one of them. I can pretend to be George Szirtes.
George Szirtes

Using words well is a social virtue. Use 'fortuitous' once more to mean 'fortunate' and you move an English word another step towards the dustbin. If your mistake took hold, no-one who valued clarity would be able to use the word again.
John Whale

One good thing about being a Marxist is that you don't have to pretend to like work.
Terry Eagleton, What Is A Novel?, Lancaster University, 1 Feb 2010

The working man is a fucking loser.
Mick, The Golden Lion, Lancaster, 21 Mar 2011

The Comfort of Strangers

23.1.16: Big clearout of the defunct and dormant and dull
16.1.19: Further pruning

If your comment box looks like this, I'm afraid I sometimes can't be bothered with all that palarver just to leave a comment.

63 mago
Another Angry Voice
the asshat lounge
Clutter From The Gutter
Eryl Shields Ink
Exile on Pain Street
Fat Man On A Keyboard
gairnet provides: press of blll defunct, but retained for its quality
George Szirtes ditto
Guitars and Life
Infomaniac [NSFW]
The Joy of Bex
Laudator Temporis Acti
London's Singing Organ-Grinder
The Most Difficult Thing Ever
Strange Flowers
Trailer Park Refugee
Wonky Words

"Just sit still and listen" - woman to teenage girl at Elliott Carter weekend, London 2006

Bristol New Music
Desiring Progress Collection of links only
Golden Pages for Musicologists
Lauren Redhead
The Rambler
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Sequenza 21
Sound and Music
Talking Musicology defunct, but retained

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