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I'm with the brand

  Thu 5th April 2012

Standing at the cashpoint, trying to influence the ATM into giving me a final tenner by being insouciant. My magic works. In the pub, I meet Neil and Kev. A phase of talking to Kev and wanting to kiss him, and letting his words go in parallel with imagining his cock in my mouth. As I left I kissed him on the lips. "Don't do that," he says. "You'll tempt me." "It crosses my mind," I say. I wish you could do this with women, without it being all significant.

Before that, I get pleasingly detained by a train driver with whom I used to work. I sometimes miss the culture of the railways. It's an intelligent, working class culture. We stand at the bar and I like how he starts swearing in a way which I know indicates friendship rather than aggression.

We chat with some young, keen but rightwing Lib Dem councillors saying about how people go to Preston to shop. No they don't. And a translator from Toulouse and her Canadian boyfriend, who clasped hands on the table. I don't want any girlfriend to whom I have to be so demonstrably fond in public. The sense of needing a third party, an audience, in order to certify "love" (whatever that is). It's the physical equivalent of using your mobile phone in public. It says "There's something more important than you."

In the streets afterwards, everyone's declaring Easter drunken. Branded men wear logoed T-shirts. High heels and minidresses on women, who are suffering with the angles. "He's a nice bloke, a regular," I overhear from one of them, and I'm vainly happy as I go home.

But not pissed enough. Not a pleasant feeling, and wondering whether I should resort to the medicinally harsh black Hungarian "tonic" that is unloved in the kitchen. Supposed to be going to see Kitty and Melissa in Lytham tomorrow but won't be able to do that now.

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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.
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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

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63 mago
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