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The birthday party
Kitty picked me up from my house to drive me to hers in Blackpool. It was her birthday. She walked in and I was momentarily open-mouthed at how she looked, her curvy figure wrapped in a V-neck knee-length creme dress with a black pattern on it, a little woolen top. "You look gorgeous," I said.
"It'll be alright, it's a lot safer on the motorway." Yes but three thousand people a year die doing what we're doing, I didn't say, as I got into her car. I don't like being in cars.
We had to babysit her two-year-old nephew for an hour and a half. He stood there staring at me for an inordinately long time. I tried playing with the toy truck, sitting little toys on a toy sofa, but still the staring. I was relieved when he left. Having my own children hasn't made me feel any more sympathy to other people's.
We handed him over and we went to a lovely pub in Lytham, Ten real ales, and the comfortable air of relaxed older people on good pensions. I love chatting to Kitty, the closeness. I can tell her everything. We went back to hers and her cousin came round. She was wearing a most unusual T-shirt with a ruched scooped neck. You could see her blue bra underneath and the label with the washing instructions tucked in against her waist. On her attractive small tits, it looked very good. There was a tumbling volley of chatter all night, Prosecco and champagne.
This morning I got up early to get the train back home to meet Mary-Ann. A lovely afternoon in bed. She's a beautiful kisser, making me wait and wait and wait until she kisses me properly. An indescribably lovely feeling when she touched me just at the base of my spine. I had no idea I would like being touched there. I cupped my hand round her head and pushed her lips onto mine and felt very close to her.
After she left I went down the pub. I met my two gay friends there and got merrily pissed, doing crosswords. "Hyphenation is interesting." I said, and Neil set us hyphenation exercises to do. To hyphenate or not, that was the question, as he set us awkward cases to resolve.
"I have a fantasy," I said to Kevin, his boyfriend, "Of having a man's cock stuck in my mouth. I'd love to suck a man's cock and have him come in my mouth." "It won't work, because you've thought about it," he said.
I walked home feeling liberated, high. I am a sexual person. What a pleasure it is. To be treated as a sexual being, for that to be normal, to have a lover who sees me as a sexual person, to have friends who see me as that too.Feedback awaiting moderation
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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person
M / 61 / 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
Rummage in my drawers
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
Crinklybee Defunct
Exile on Pain Street
Fat Man On A Keyboard
gairnet provides: press of blll
George Szirtes ditto
Infomaniac [NSFW]
Laudator Temporis Acti
Leeds's Singing Organ-Grinder
On The Rocks
The Most Difficult Thing Ever nothing since April
Quillette
Strange Flowers
Wonky Words
"Just sit still and listen" - woman to teenage girl at Elliott Carter weekend, London 2006
5:4Bristol New Music
Desiring Progress Collection of links only
NewMusicBox
Purposeful Listening (né The Rambler)
Resonance FM
Sequenza 21
Sound and Music
Talking Musicology defunct, but retained
