shakespeare, t.s.eliot, james joyce, jacob, jackson pollock, michael jackson

Tommy
Originally uploaded by MrNickyP.

Saturday was a tramp across the countryside with cows and discovering Apple Day! Great sloshing buckets of various cider and chickens with fluffy feet and a sheep being led about and morris dancers (although we missed the clog dancers) and hay bales and an actual Owl which I whistled at and it hopped about and flew at me with its talons out "He's got a way with owls". What an Apple Day! And then we found ourselves caught in a thunderstorm in Lewes as we wandered around Lewes castle,

another day we found some glowing worms with shells for heads, perhaps we were actually the only people to ever see them

Who is Dave?

"if there is anyone in the Brighton area who would liek to model for shots like this one please contact me."

Andy IS Russ Meyer.

... maybe it was a thumb ...

With a bit of luck, it'll ruin his life--forever thinking that just behind some narrow door in all his favorite bars, men in red Pendleton shirts are getting incredible kicks from things he'll never know. Would he dare to suck a sleeve? Probably not. Play it safe. Pretend you never saw it...

It's Tuesday again.

Tom and the dog have vanished. They've been missing since Sunday morning. We went to the Car Boot Sale in the Station Car Park. Saw a pom. That little scamp pirhouetting about on the end of his lead. You could see the gleam in Tom's eyes as little 'Scraps' cowered in fear from the biting spinning pom. He bought a teapot with hideous faces upon it. We got on a train to the countryside (southease) leaving Tom with the dog. They've gone. They haven't been home.

What would you do? He's not answering his phone. He's a clever strong lad. He can look after himself, even out in the wild. I've seen him kill rabbits and feed on their flesh before. But I'm still mildly concerned. The posters are still there.

In other news, I spent much of Saturday drifting in and out of troubled consciousness. Not quite as bad as Coley Holy War, who, the weekend before, went to sleep at about 2am on the Friday, and woke up on Sunday morning, not realising he had missed a day. There's something funny up with the sleeping at the moment. Who knows what will happen once British Summer Time ends.

Wee Elboo rolled back into town on the Saturday night. She has started to sick up into her sleeve. Apparently she is not actually living in a big house full of boys. Instead, it's just because 'the girls aren't really worth mentioning'.

We took Andy James Nelson into the countryside with us on Saturday. After a joyous train voyage to Southease, where we found a pond of frogs, we began to climb a hill. Andy sat on the hill and didn't move. In the end, we left him there, and strolled through the "Garden of England", as some have referred to the South Downs in the past. In the distance, we saw a chalk quarry. An indistinct black clad figure appeared to be collecting chalk and wrapping it in their black jumper. What was he/she doing? Was it Andy? Why would Andy do that? Maybe it wasn't Andy. Daniel Taylor saw a Peregrine Falcon. We picked apples from the trees. Eventually we found ourselves in Glynde. Pints of ale in Glynde.

So apparently this town in the North had a seagull problem, so they employed this man to climb around on the cliffs breaking eggs in the seagull's nests, in order to mean there were less seagulls with the next generation. In the end the man had to leave town, because the seagulls remembered him and would attack him whereever he went.

Also elephants have been known to have similar revenge attacks; a man in an african village shot an elephant, and the next day the whole herd came along and destroyed the village. Nature fights back! Power to the cuttlefish!

Read poems at the Ukulele Research and Development night last night. Went well, for a change. Got the chance to read the Moustache Trilogy for the first time. Perhaps shall put some of it up here. They too were beautiful names.

Worked from open til close at the pub on Friday. Power. I need more shifts. Seamus won a Beer Engine (one of those big pumps one would use to deliver ale from a bar) from the Worthing Beer Festival. "Ulster says yes!". Imagine an incoherent stumbling Irishman with a slurred northern irish accent careering about with a 'Beer Engine' "Woulds you likes a pint of hophead there?". Beautiful.

Andy and Jed nearly got de-limbed. Amy is on woo-fest. Anna has been growing hundreds of exciting vegetables on the allotment. Me and Anna went to the launch of The Station at Preston Park station. A tiny tiny little harmonica. Doug wearing a bee-suit. Buffet!

Un-dog interlude

breakfast
Originally uploaded by Dolores Luxedo.

No change on the dog front. In some ways I'm getting quite attached to him. My current opinion is that there's nothing I can do about the status of little stolen Scraps; me and Jed tried to help him break for freedom the other day and Tom stood by the door with his bat guarding. It is with a spirit of resigned acceptance that we now play with him; he does have a good life now.

Recent departures:

Elboo has gone off to the Big Smoke. She's living on a big floor full of boys and is no doubt constructing felt tubes and hanging out with the London hipsters like George and Ollie Gimp.

Maya Semray: Jetted off to South America after constructing a wee tent under her dining table that resides in our book-lined dining area. We can only hope that she'll be okay as she left her "learn Spanish like they talk in South America" CD behind.

Dave the Machine: Cogs whirring, the well-oiled Dave ground his way straight from France to Edinburgh, in search of a "better class of crack-fiend". Our only consolation was to spatter our watercolours in the creation of Dave the Machine fan art. Coming soon.

Recent Arrivals

The Admiral; Andyjamesnelson rolled back into town after a similar sojourn in France; filled with a new entheusiasm from the Island Project we shall expect a new deluge of photography, poems, and filthy sex-drawings. Cock of war, anyone? Oh, I'll have a slice if there's some going.

Pink Amy; Notably less pink, after two and a half years of sleep deprivation and genki drinks, A to the A joined our Prison of Captured Dog (or house) an advent of wine and ring-based-cooking and pastimes.

Louise: Hunting, shooting, and fishing, but no vegetarian baked beans in Alaska. We've failed to arrange a cup of tea over the last two weeks. This is how organised I am.

- - -

I'm sure there are more arrivals and departures that I've left out. It's not a comprehensive list, by any stretch of the imagination. We found a massive wardrobe in the street the other day, which was worth carrying the whole of the way up Southover Street. I want to get some victorian oval picture frames for "Marie Turns Head into Wizard's Face".


You will have to excuse the vile tabloid branding for the greatest of all images.

St. Albans was lovely. Fighting our way through the melee that is St. Albans Bear Baiting Festival, a stolen glimpse of Phil Sumner, young conservatives, the swelling Cross Keys, finally catching up with Simon, Paul Pepper moving around the corner from my mother and father. Trawling through the boxes of nostalgia under my cabin bed.

Does anyone out there want an office temp?

Dog

SA Monster Munch - back
Originally uploaded by Sul.

Now there are posters all around our area with pictures of little "Scraps" as Tom has dubbed him. No change in Tom. He's stopped going to work so he can be with the dog all the time. Scraps dines well, it has to be said, fine glossy fur and shining eyes. A mound of raw steak coruscates onto his dish each evening with just the whisper of a sound, to be devoured by the new and missed animal

More about the dog.

DSC00491
Originally uploaded by brainstormer.

Here is Tom with the little dog. He's still got it. He's bought it a bowl and a lead and some dog food. I've tried telling him he ought to give it back, but he's refusing to, cradling it in his arms as if it was his own child. What do I do?

Really big, wrapped in cling-film and in the neon room

Really big, wrapped in cling-film and in the neon room
Originally uploaded by Dolores Luxedo.

I just really want an opportunity to post this photograph.

Drama

So I got back to Brighton today and all hell has broken loose. Tom seems to have completely lost any sense of what is appropriate, and has stolen a little dog from Queens Park. I think it is called a Bichon Frise, one of those little stumpy white ones with funny flat heads. I got back in the house and he's sitting there in his chair, holding the dog in front of him and chattering to it. In a reasonable, sober manner, he put the dog down on the floor, and offered me a cup of tea. There is a dog in my house. He claims he "rescued it from Queens Park yesterday". Now firstly we've talked about having a dog and we're not making any big decisions yet, and secondly it's not really on to go stealing people's pets. He seems totally unconcerned about it, although he did call in sick to work today in order to look after the dog and make it some clothes; "poor little thing, you'll get cold, won't you."

20 letters to a friend

Sometimes you can see the leaves turning brown on the trees. I became filled with an urge to track down the many people I have been compoundly bad at keeping in touch with the other day. I'm currently back in St. Albans. Last night we found a brown suede hat on the ground. Have you lost a brown suede hat? What is your address? My email address is bokestalbans. Today me and Annie Hell wrote alternate words on a postcard. The Tourist Information Centre is closed on Sundays. Losing touch with people makes me sad. Paul Pepper now had big curly hair. I want to get a desk for our new room.