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  Thu 3rd October 2013

Trina writes: "You have been so lovely, loving and wonderful to me recently, I know you want me to see how committed you are to us and our fabulous relationship."

I reply "Fucking hell, that's upping the ante a bit! :)" and went to bed. And then next morning there was a bit of kerfuffle by email, in the modern way, about her getting "strange vibes" from me. To which I replied "Strange vibes? Have you been playing your Roy Ayres records at the wrong speed again?"

Irritatingly flippant, I suppose she might have thought; I am a lover in an unequal relationship of affection, as we are, as I always am. I can never reciprocrate what women solicit. Except in sex, I suppose, my selfishness a licence for theirs.

Your cultural memories affect what you say, and when I made the latter remark I was thinking of W N Herbert's poem "Sofia City Blues." I know this is to descend into the solipsitic fandom of an anticpated pop concert, but this is what makes me tense and relaxed and sexual and listen to this!

Eh am like thi toon whaur Eh wuz born
meh hert is always somewhere whaur it disnae belong;
the demons of thi ages rip ma heid tae rags
and Eh cairry meh sowel in these three bags,
Eh cairry meh sowel in these three bags.

do you confuse great pop music
with being in love
well, don't apologise

Eh'm thi less travelled, unravelled man
just a-waiting for a slogan in thi New Bedlam
Eh'm the man ootwith thi language, wi thi slanguage fuhl o baggage
and Eh cairry meh sowel in these three bags,
Eh cairry meh sowel in these three bags.

do you peel your mind and find
city within city within city?
don't make a career out of it

They tell me stoap translatin and enjoy thi kitsch
beginning wi thi wife o Doktor Lachnavitch
but anither ladybird just appeared oan ma pad
she sez Eh cairry meh sowel in these three bags,
Eh cairry meh sowel in these three bags.

the bed is sandy
the bed is Sunday
the bed is bad lasagne

tissue remains

Even just typing it makes me breathe heavily and wetness comes to my eyes. He will be reading in Lancaster soon, at our Literature Festival. Poetry is an oral art first of all, and like music, a shared social experience. How can people have an experience of music or poetry with an iPod? Surely all that is left is the commentary on your experience rather than the experience itself. Or is this just a mistaken argument for a non-existent authenticity? I don't know, let's have a drink.

In other news, I have the money back from the errant lodger, or rather, his Dad. I had a couple of phone conversations with the long-suffering parent, the last of which was this afternoon as he was standing outside the bank, about to transfer the money into my account. Harold told me the last time this happened, he had to bail him with a four figure sum, and that this is the last time he will be doing it, and both apologised to me and said it was right that I had threatened him with court action.

I'm glad he paid up because the action wouldn't have lasted five minutes in a court. He did owe me the money, but I have no proof of it, apart perhaps from showing the court my blog, and then the whole private-public dichotomy upon which my life is balanced, would collapse.


Holy shit! That’s really good stuff! esp.

meh hert is always somewhere whaur it disnae belong;

I thought it was just me.

That is not the last time he’ll bail-out his loser son. I pray to G-d my kids never do this to me because you can bet I’ll bail them out again and again. Bet on it.

Thu 3rd October 2013 @ 12:06
Comment from: [Member]

Yes, it’s brilliant isn’t it? It’s from his collection Bad Shaman Blues.

I have told my girls that I can’t afford to bail them out. They can always stay here–if they fancy sleeping on the sofa and having breakfast with the lodgers–but there’s not a sous to help them financially. Poor old Harold–we were on the phone for half an hour. He’s fed up with his son.

Thu 3rd October 2013 @ 15:53
Comment from: Tony [Visitor]

Poor Trina she was seeing a chink of light again.
You don’t deserve her but absolutely brilliant that you are sticking to your principles.
In the longer run you will probably be thought more of than being a condescending wimp.
In the mans world Ascot Beer Festival tomorrow :-)

Thu 3rd October 2013 @ 21:37
Comment from: [Member]

I know, my friend. Kim gave me a right fucking talking to last time she was here, about how I treat her, and it really hit home, and I’m trying to be better now. That is, after sleeping with Kim (cough). I don’t mean to throw her kind remarks back in her face, but I just can’t take this love palarver seriously. It’s all made up.

Have a great time at Ascot–we’ve got Westmorland Beer Festival in Kendal on 10-12th.

Thu 3rd October 2013 @ 21:51
Comment from: [Member]

It was a rather odd moment for me… telling my Irish lover that he’d been horribly mean to his other girlfriend. As he was giving her the boot, she’d simply asked him for one more night - before she moved on to her more serious boyfriend exclusively. Somehow managed to convince Irish to take her out for a nice dinner in the next town over, along with a proper shagging in an upscale hotel room. Breakfast, too. He’d been seeing her for a year before i started seeing him. She had seniority. It was the least i could do…

Thu 3rd October 2013 @ 22:29
Comment from: [Member]

I admire that. What you are describing is a civilised way of carrying on with the natural state for many people, which is not monogamous. When Kim was here last, she said that the difference between me and her is that she is open about everything with her lovers, whereas I am not. I lie, Kim doesn’t. Trina doesn’t like Kim, but Kim is a moral teacher, and I’m trying to put it into practice.

Thu 3rd October 2013 @ 23:54
Comment from: gb [Visitor]

I think you’ve changed your original post, but well, in response to that earlier manifestation, I certainly don’t think you’re incapable of love - rather that your desire to categorise it as this unattainable ideal is misjudged.

I don’t think we can pin down love, it’s different things for different folks. I think you’re full of it.

Fri 4th October 2013 @ 15:01
Comment from: [Member]

Hello gb, welcome.

I deleted a paragraph from my comment at Thu 3rd October 2013 @ 23:54 which contained some slightly overheated remarks about the loveliness of Kim, which looked a bit alarming when I was sober :)

Thanks, I very much appreciate your kind remarks.

Sat 5th October 2013 @ 11:06

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

M / 60 / 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

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