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Twit her
8 comments
Still the best stuff out here. More character and plot in a handful of paragraphs than in the total of some full-blown novels I’ve suffered through.
Thanks–good job keyboards don’t do blushing.
i was briefly in a bluegrass band about 20 years ago. played 12-string guitar. i grew to hate it, as our lead singer, who played a mean ‘tater bug’, had a voice like a metal file on a blackboard. since taking lessons from a very experienced musician, she has taken me through some very basic bluegrass pieces that are absolutely charming… i suppose it’s all in the delivery.
“Tater bug"?
How difficult to be in a band with a person whose voice you don’t like.
I was very surprised how much I liked this fellow’s stuff, although I think context is all–his CD, which I purchased, has been played once through and I have a feeling it’s going to be an efficient accumulator of dust from now on. I suspect–from a position of utter ignorance about the music–that his live performances are quite a modern, contemporary version of bluegrass that might not be typical of the art.
But here I go again, talking of that which I know nothing.
Sorry I didn’t reply to your earlier comment about the pleasures of white goods. My favourite, although not an electrical appliance, is the table. But kitchens are just inherently erotic places.
I’d give it a couple of weeks before the coyness is replaced by smugness as her new crop begins its short journey to harvest.
Let’s look at the facts…
Large suitcase. 1. The neighbours saw her arrive with it, they will not question it when Phong Chien and Xuan Quy remove your freshly hatcheted body after you threaten to call the polis. 2. A willingness to understand how to procure both electricity and water. Coincidence? 3. Fiscal payments by proxy. Very clever if you do not want to leave any loose ends.
I shall check my comment box on a regular basis so that I know you are still with us. The clock is ticking my friend… Have a great weekend, try not to worry too much. Perhaps the meat cleaver under her pillow is merely there for a forthcoming home economics class. But then again… maybe not!
Chef, carry on like this and you’ll get an invitation to do a turn at Litfest next year, following the reception of your first novel, “loosely based on real life but with a distinctly Glaswegian invention that bears the stamp of a culture forever given to pessimism yet redeemed by its sequipedalian wit.”
Sesquipedalianism is not to be confused with being altiloquent, magniloquent, being chrestomathic or just plain omnierudite.
Of course, we could both continue to promote the myth that every Glaswegian is indeed a bawbag mirror image of Rab C.
Some of you are though, and that’s why I like the place.
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