Lobster Claws for Hands.
Well good evening ladies and gentlemen, and how are you of this fine evening? Hoping you're all keepin' it splendid. Marvellous.
So I'm totally well busy at the moment. I'm making a travel documentary with a TV crew from Hong Kong in a week or so, plus I'm trying to put a book together City Boy in Blind Spot Trauma in time for May. Plus I'm trying to make a kee-tar and organising Brighton's first legal brothel and serving ale to the needy-of-ale and being a newsboy. I'm all weak and broken. At the moment I'm spending tuesday night sitting in my room twitching.
Seamus has gone back to Ireland for a week. Lucy is living in the cupboard under the stairs and making her money as a street-artist and barkeep. Anna moves Alan Bennett style with a trolley full of tools. Daniel Freakin' Taylor is Peter Schaffer's new biggest fan. Tom scored with some hot girl on Friday night and ever since then they've been on a taxidermy, kareoke, booze and pork scratching binge, taking in some twee-core and electro-pom-pom-pow over the weekend when time allowed in between all the "going into the partnership". Filth.
Andy celebrated being thirty on Thursday by going to the Marina and going bowling. Me and Anna had tickets to the Hove Bear Baiting Festival, so we leapt on a Falafel Bus to Hove at half past five, ducked and dived around the clientele of the Evening Star as we watched the Medieval Haircut Bonanza erupt in front of us. Sipping at a fine glass of Owl and then suddenly leaping on a bus with Jimmy Prince the Irish Prince to the Marina for backspin and a surprising encounter with the Sexecutioner.
Andy got thrown out of Asda for trying to open a packet of Cashew nuts in the shop. For shame!
We went back to Andy's house. Lucy did a wee in Jana's bed. Not even by accident.
Cornish Night was a great success. Surrounded by Cornish as I am, the festivities for St. Piran's day involved Cornish Ale and Pasties at a fine establishment. Banners with Cornish flags and slogans and a quiz; "Which river separates Cornwall from England?". Sadly Spingo Special meant I slept upon a stairway.
What else happened. I went to a movie premiere. Brighton extravaganza. Whitehawk boy done good amidst stolen diamonds James-Bond-fighting-gangsters-waist-deep-in-water-in-a-canoe-slalom-practice-lake scenario. It'll be dark soon, and they mostly come out at night. Mostly.
Oh, by the way, I'm going to be reading poetry / playing my kee-tar at the following events, so if you're in the Brighton area, then do come along.
Get Lost Magazine / Beatabet launch; The Hope (formerly Polar Central) (formerly the Pig in Paradise, but in the bit that used to be the lift), Sunday the 18th of March, 7 o clock until 12.
The Ukulele Research and Development society, The Pedestrian's Arms (in Foundry Street), 8 o clock til 11, Monday the 19th of March; this is jimmy's night but I am hosting it for this month. brilliant.
Okay, I'm sorry, I don't normally self-promote myself so horribly blatantly on the internet. God, that was awful.
So, there's blatantly hundredsof things more I really ought to rant about, but I reckon I should stop now, and carry on another day when I'm feeling a bit more coherent. I've got a day off tomorrow. excellent.
So I'm totally well busy at the moment. I'm making a travel documentary with a TV crew from Hong Kong in a week or so, plus I'm trying to put a book together City Boy in Blind Spot Trauma in time for May. Plus I'm trying to make a kee-tar and organising Brighton's first legal brothel and serving ale to the needy-of-ale and being a newsboy. I'm all weak and broken. At the moment I'm spending tuesday night sitting in my room twitching.
Seamus has gone back to Ireland for a week. Lucy is living in the cupboard under the stairs and making her money as a street-artist and barkeep. Anna moves Alan Bennett style with a trolley full of tools. Daniel Freakin' Taylor is Peter Schaffer's new biggest fan. Tom scored with some hot girl on Friday night and ever since then they've been on a taxidermy, kareoke, booze and pork scratching binge, taking in some twee-core and electro-pom-pom-pow over the weekend when time allowed in between all the "going into the partnership". Filth.
Andy celebrated being thirty on Thursday by going to the Marina and going bowling. Me and Anna had tickets to the Hove Bear Baiting Festival, so we leapt on a Falafel Bus to Hove at half past five, ducked and dived around the clientele of the Evening Star as we watched the Medieval Haircut Bonanza erupt in front of us. Sipping at a fine glass of Owl and then suddenly leaping on a bus with Jimmy Prince the Irish Prince to the Marina for backspin and a surprising encounter with the Sexecutioner.
Andy got thrown out of Asda for trying to open a packet of Cashew nuts in the shop. For shame!
We went back to Andy's house. Lucy did a wee in Jana's bed. Not even by accident.
Cornish Night was a great success. Surrounded by Cornish as I am, the festivities for St. Piran's day involved Cornish Ale and Pasties at a fine establishment. Banners with Cornish flags and slogans and a quiz; "Which river separates Cornwall from England?". Sadly Spingo Special meant I slept upon a stairway.
What else happened. I went to a movie premiere. Brighton extravaganza. Whitehawk boy done good amidst stolen diamonds James-Bond-fighting-gangsters-waist-deep-in-water-in-a-canoe-slalom-practice-lake scenario. It'll be dark soon, and they mostly come out at night. Mostly.
Oh, by the way, I'm going to be reading poetry / playing my kee-tar at the following events, so if you're in the Brighton area, then do come along.
Get Lost Magazine / Beatabet launch; The Hope (formerly Polar Central) (formerly the Pig in Paradise, but in the bit that used to be the lift), Sunday the 18th of March, 7 o clock until 12.
The Ukulele Research and Development society, The Pedestrian's Arms (in Foundry Street), 8 o clock til 11, Monday the 19th of March; this is jimmy's night but I am hosting it for this month. brilliant.
Okay, I'm sorry, I don't normally self-promote myself so horribly blatantly on the internet. God, that was awful.
So, there's blatantly hundredsof things more I really ought to rant about, but I reckon I should stop now, and carry on another day when I'm feeling a bit more coherent. I've got a day off tomorrow. excellent.
posted by Rufus Moonshine at 4:19 PM
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